The End
by AgentVick
Summary: I have been trying to update this, but this STUPID site won't let anyone upload noew chapters. However, i do have it posted at the wonderful SD-1.com :)
1. The Aftermath

-Alright, this is the first of MANY post 'The Telling' stories because I am in denial. Because frankly, that sucked. I am sure that the rest of the episode was great, but due to the glaringly painful ring on a certain someone's finger I don't really remember. So until J.J. 'quells my fury' (hehe) this is my only escape from the crap he aired last Sunday.  
  
-I know, I KNOW. I have severely abused 'Sorry'. I am almost done with it but I have to get this out of my system first, all right? And of course, reviews may speed up the process. Let's hope I update better with this one;)  
  
-You know how I love my reviews! Keep in mind that the more I get the faster I write.  
  
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//Nearly Two Years Ago\\  
  
He makes his way through the doorway, feet crunching on the broken glass as he surveys the remainders of what was once a home. Home was something he was never familiar with, something he had never experienced before, the word was strange to him. But he did know that the warmth you felt upon stepping into a home was no longer felt in this place. It was cold. And cold was a word he was far too familiar with.  
  
Escaping from the CIA facilities had been more difficult than he had expected, but still he managed. The distraction of the current state of affairs for the task force took the concentration off of his particular cellblock, as he had counted on. From there he had carried out his plans as instructed by Irina, and was made aware that she could have escaped if she had felt necessary to do so, but the absence of family for so long had taken a toll on her.  
  
He approaches the first lifeless body and unconsciously gasps upon learning the identity. He knew this day would come, he had tried to prepare himself, but nothing could have shaken the feeling of sorrow he felt as his eyes found Allison's face, twisted in anguish, contorted in pain. Allison, his Allison, lie among the debris, and the reality that this was his doing hit with the force he did not know existed. The one person he had ever felt for was gone, dead, and it was because he had asked her to take on a task he knew was suicide. She had not hesitated upon his request, she too had been consumed by the legend of Rambaldi long ago, and willingly gave up everything she knew to become Sloane's guinea pig. He had not known of their involvement, nor Irina, of course, for the CIA was not alone in their policy on fraternizing among agents. He had not wanted her to go, he was all too familiar with the abilities of the now legendary Miss Bristow, and knew that this would not end well. But he had not protested, had not voiced his fears, partly for her pride, partly for his own selfish nature. And now, as he gazed down upon something he knew he would not find again, the small flicker that had once been present in his heart became cold once again.  
  
Finally letting his eyes leave her lifeless body, he came upon another. Her gentle beauty still present, he gazed upon her with wonder. How someone with such talent, such potential, had not been corrupted by the power she could so easily posses was beyond him. The policy of for-the-love-of-the- country had always been a mystery to him. Slowly he made his way towards her, taking the time to note the various scars left from their battle, which he had no doubt was long and brutal. As expected, her pulse was still beating, she was too strong to let go that easily. A small grin surfaced upon his grim face as he shook his head, once again amazed at the resilience of the Bristow women. Reaching inside his coat he removed his phone, dialing the necessary numbers.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Phase two is underway."  
  
"Her condition?"  
  
"She's alive, if that's what you're inquiring."  
  
"And our asset?"  
  
"Not quite as lucky."  
  
"The extraction team should be there momentarily. I assume you are prepared to take the necessary precautions?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"What is Tippen's condition?"  
  
"Unconfirmed."  
  
"Very well, that's a loose end we don't have time to tie up. I will see you shortly."  
  
And the line went dead. Not seconds later bright lights lit the room from behind the house. The team entered and carefully removed her from the bloody ground, careful as to not damage her further. Allison was not taken, she was no longer a priority, required to be forgotten. And she would be.  
  
Silently he followed them into the van and slid the door shut in time to watch as Mr. Vaughn pulled up. Too late, he thought, as the icy grin once again returned. It was really too bad, the star crossed agents had worked well together. But fate was a tricky thing, and sometimes you must intervene in ones destiny to fulfill another.  
  
~  
  
He smiled as they carried her unconscious body into the dimly lit room. For so long he had waited for this day, waited for things to fall into place. And it had finally come. In the process he had done unimaginable things, betrayed his country, told countless lies, double-crossed his closest allies, and murdered the love of his life. He now knew that this was no small price for the outcome of his quest. They may not understand now, but they would, eventually.  
  
"Sloane."  
  
"Hello, Sark. Your flight was pleasant, I suspect."  
  
"As always."  
  
"She's beautiful, isn't she? So innocent, so peaceful, if only she knew."  
  
"Mr. Vaughn arrived not seconds after we had left."  
  
"As suspected."  
  
"He is going to be a problem."  
  
He had known this far in advance, the young couple had endured much pain to get where they were, and that was not a place he would easily leave. His love for her was not to be underestimated, and that he knew. It was a problem he had addressed far in advance, and the solution was easy. He had in-listed her for this project months ago, and she had been taught to fit his perfect mold, the right looks, the right actions, the right words; she had been trained to fill the void, and she had been trained well. Now it was only a matter of time.  
  
"Do you doubt I had considered this already Sark? It has been taken care of. Every minute detail, every possibility, has been overseen. Nothing will get in the way of what we are to accomplish."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"We have other preparations to take care of Mr. Sark, as I am sure you are aware. We must not waste time, for it isn't to be taken for granted."  
  
And with that he left her there. He had never seen Sydney Bristow quite so helpless, and the knowledge that he could inflict the change upon such a powerful human only increased his confidence. The time was coming, his thirty-year odessy would soon come to and end, and in turn serve as the beginning.  
  
~  
  
Gone.  
  
She was gone. It had been six months, but every morning the realization that he would no longer wake up to her beautiful face hit him like a ton of bricks. And unlike they had told him, it did not get better. It only got worse.  
  
He went through the daily motions of getting out of bed, showering, and getting dressed as heartlessly as he had every morning for the past 180 days. But as he looked into the mirror he reminded himself that today was different. Today he would not walk through the task force doors prepared to comb through yet another lead that he would convince himself would take them to her. Four months was the normal waiting period, but due to her high status and everyone in the agency who had ever met her, it had been postponed to six. But even at the violently persistent requests of her father and himself, they were allotted no more time. They had given up on her.  
  
For the first month, no one spoke of anything but retrieval. Everyone had high hopes that Agent Bristow would be found in a matter of weeks.  
  
When the second month rolled around the search died down. There was still a team assembled to the sole purpose of recovering her, but the buzz was killed.  
  
Then came the third month, and only Carrie, Marshall, Weiss, Dixon, Will, Jack and himself still carried on as if there was still hope.  
  
And as the fourth months hit the air was filled with doubt. Words of sorry were whispered and hope seemed to diminish. He still kept headstrong, as did Jack, but others began to accept her fate. Even Will had seemed to loose the fire that had once spurred him on.  
  
Now, in the fifth and sixth months, people seemed as if they had forgotten, as if she was dead, and it infuriated him. Daily he was ambushed with words of apology for his loss, and he lashed out at everyone, even those closest to him. He drowned himself further into the paperwork trying to hide from reality. Until last week.  
  
Last week was October 1. His heart had stopped that day three years ago, and the realization that she may not come back hit him hard. He had cried himself to sleep that night, ashamed that he had even considered giving up.  
  
The next day, he called Weiss. He came over and they talked. They talked for a long time. And by the time Weiss left he had accepted the fact that she was gone.  
  
Gone.  
  
He would never give up on her; part of him would always look for her. But another part told him that if he kept this up it would kill him.  
  
So today he was going out. On a date. She moved in to his complex a month after she disappeared and had always offered him a warm smile. At first he resented her, her long brown hair and deep brown eyes, they were a daily reminder. But he could not blame her for unknowingly representing something he had lost. So tonight he would give her a chance to become a friend, if nothing more.  
  
It felt right, as if it were to happen eventually. So tonight, he would attempt to silence the screams from inside him, and ignore the feeling that this could be the end of something he loved more than anyone would ever know. 


	2. The Ring

-Before reading this, I feel compelled to warn you that it is long and contains more angst that I thought possible. I know that this is a little harsher than Sydney's true reaction, but this is how I would have taken the news. So be aware that if you are still to fragile to take the screaming and yelling that is about to occur between everyone's favorite star-crossed lovers than stay away from this chapter. Basically its just Sydney reacting to Vaughn about the damned ring the same we did.  
  
-Alright, I am gravely disappointed at the mere two reviews I have received ( Can we try and improve that? Oh, I don't know, at least double digits would be nice . . .  
  
-There may be some weird formating in this but I still havent figured out how to keep things italicized and such as of yet. Bare with me.  
  
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I'm frightened by what I see But somehow I know that there's much more to come Immobilized by my fear And soon blinded by my tears I can stop the pain if I will it all away -Whisper, Evanescence  
  
*  
  
Millions of questions are running through her head, and there isn't an answer for any of them. Where she is, why she's here, why her body is so weary with pain . . .none of it makes any sense. Why in the hell would she be lying in the middle of an alley in Hong Kong?  
  
Something's wrong, and she knows it.  
  
Choosing to ignore her gut, she closes her eyes trying to piece things together, but they immediately fly back open at the image that she recalls.  
  
Francie.  
  
*Oh, God. * The tears begin to flow at the reminder of the betrayal, at the pain that had surged through her arm the moment she fired the first shot. It was not the real Francie, it was not her Francie, but it was still her face. She shakes her head at the obviousness of it all; all the facts pointed to her. She *should * have known. Her behavior had been strange for some time now, and she should have acted on that. But she didn't. She was blinded by the comfort of her one last link to normalcy, and she may have killed Will in the process.  
  
It dawns on her that the last two days have been the most emotionally tasking in her life. Francie, Will, Sloane, Sark, her father, her mother. Everything was slowly spiraling downhill, all because of some damned prophecy made nearly 500 years ago.  
  
Vaughn was her only link back to life, her salvation. He had been her rock countless times and she would never be able to repay him for that. Without him, she would have nothing. She was surprised to find that the admittance of this dependency did not make her feel weaker, but instead stronger than she had ever been.  
  
Eventually the tears subside and she notices a tarnished mirror in the corner. When she makes her way over to the broken glass, the figure looking back at her sends a chill down her spine. She recognizes it as herself, the same chocolate eyes and strong jaw line, but somehow it's not her. Something is different, not the same as it was the day before, but she can't but a finger on it. Immediately she looks away, not wanting to consider the possibilities.  
  
Instead she takes a moment to survey the room around her. It's dark, and damp, and looks as if it hasn't been touched in years. Which she knows isn't possible because she was here just a few months ago due to a mission gone awry.  
  
A sudden sharp pain in her stomach interrupts her thoughts after absently running into the side of a bed. Taking a deep breath, she is shocked at the affect it had on her, something so minimal usually does not faze her. Reaching under the heavy sweater she does not remember ever purchasing her hands find a strip of raw, raised skin stretching for about three inches across her stomach. And it hits her.  
  
The scars, the blood from the battle, are all gone. The pain she feels is not from the fight form earlier, they are no where to be found. She rushes to the mirror and her hands run across her face searching for cleaned scars, and she comes up empty. But before she has time to ponder the reasons why the door slowly squeaks open.  
  
He is finally here.  
  
She takes no more time than necessary to make her way across the room and into his arms, allowing him to absorb her pain as always. After staying that way for a moment, she begins to bombard him with questions, ignoring the voice inside her head screaming that there is something wrong.  
  
"Francie was the double."  
  
"I know."  
  
"How are they? Will, Francie . . ."  
  
"Will's ok."  
  
"What? How . . . "  
  
She cannot help but notice that he is avoiding her eyes, something he has never done. As he motions for her to sit she searches in vain for the gentle green she depends on for comfort. Suddenly she can no longer ignore the screaming in her head.  
  
"They asked me to come back to explain . . ."  
  
"Come back from where?"  
  
"They thought you were dead . . ."  
  
"Vaughn?"  
  
What she sees next stops her breathing completely.  
  
There is a *wedding * band on his *ring * finger.  
  
" . . . Why are you wearing that ring?"  
  
"Sydney, you have been missing for two years."  
  
She knows that this should shock her, that it should send her into a fit of fury. She should be screaming at him, telling him how that cannot be true. But she does not. She wants to, but she can't. Because the only question running through her mind at the moment is why he is wearing that ring.  
  
"The RING Vaughn."  
  
"Syd, I don't think that I should . . ."  
  
"What have I *said * about patronizing me!"  
  
"Syd, I . . .I'm . . ."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'm married."  
  
No. Nononononononono.  
  
She shoots up from her spot on the ancient bed and her hands fly to cover her face. It can't be true. It can't. She knows he wouldn't lie to her about this, but she won't believe it.  
  
"No."  
  
He still avoids her eyes, locking in on the battered ground.  
  
"Please . . .*please * tell my you're kidding. Vaughn?"  
  
He gets up and walks towards her, placing a soft hand on her arm, taking the old role of consoling her when her life fell apart. The difference was, this time it was his fault. He had done this to her.  
  
"Sydney, I am . . ."  
  
"Don't TOUCH me."  
  
She violently shakes him off of her, yet his presence still lingers and she despises the feeling of warmth his touch brings to her cold body. She wants to scream, to cry, to yell, but she doesn't. There are no more tears.  
  
"Get OUT."  
  
"Don't do this Sydney . . ."  
  
"Don't do WHAT Vaughn? Do you think you can just pretend that you didn't give up me, that things are the same and that you can hold me a whisper sweet nothings and make it go away?"  
  
He raises his voice at her accusation, matching her fury.  
  
"I did NOT give up on you! How dare you throw that at me!"  
  
"Then why the *hell * is there a wedding band on your finger? You may have tried to tell yourself otherwise, but don't do that to me. Don't pretend to be someone you aren't."  
  
"This is just as hard on me Sydney, do you realize that?"  
  
"Christ, Vaughn, how can you say that? I have been missing for two years, and instead of taking the time to find me you went and got hitched! You of ALL people know that missing is not the same as dead, just look at the circumstances damnit! I would NOT have moved on after you Vaughn, not after only two years, not *ever *. Apparently I was misled on your feelings for me."  
  
At this, he moves his face so it is inches from hers. She knows she struck a cord, she can see the pain and anguish in his eyes behind the growing layers of tears. During all they have been through, she has never seen him cry. And for the briefest of second she regrets her harsh words. And then it passes. His words are choked, but his voice is firm.  
  
"Don't you EVER doubt my feelings for you. I LOVE you Sydney; you cannot deny me of that. I won't *let * you."  
  
While it may be true, the sting of betrayal is still sharp, and she cannot see past her fury.  
  
"I want you to leave, Vaughn."  
  
He lets out a loud, painful sigh, and turns away from her. When he turns back to answer she notices that the tears have finally started to fall.  
  
"Don't do this . . ."  
  
"Vaughn, please. I can't look at you right now."  
  
And that does it. He lets out a sob, the pain and sorrow written across his face. He begins softly, in retreat.  
  
"We need to discuss your extraction."  
  
"Send another agent."  
  
"I flew here from LA, Sydney, we can't just get another agent. It's just me and the pilot."  
  
"Then, just give me some time. I can't do this right now."  
  
Again he sighs, shaking his head. He looks at her one last time, his love and raw passion for her more apparent than she has ever seen. Then, slowly, he exits the room. Leaving her behind was something he never though he would do. The moment he shuts the door, he hears the scream at nothing in particular, and the sound of random pieces of the room hitting the aged walls comes shortly after. His legs can no longer support the weight of his regret and he slumps against the door, drowning himself in the first tears he has cried in nearly two years.  
  
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-Yeah I know, I know . . . angry much? But don't lie, you feel the same way, don't you? I thought so. No go and review, I am begging you. To keep this going I need some kind of support . . . 


	3. The Betrayal

-Muchas gracias for the many reviews, its always nice to check you email and find ten new messages waiting you : ) And to everyone who made note of the ridiculously painful finale, you are not alone.  
  
-This is a short chapter, but it is one of two I wrote today. I never intended on including this but I was sitting in school today and realized I needed to update you on what the hell Sloane was up too. And while this doesn't really explain what he wanted with Sydney, it does explain other things. So enjoy! And be sure to review . . .  
  
-Just in case you noticed, this quote as well as the last one were Evanescence. I just bought the CD so I have been listening to it nonstop, and seem to have been able to relate everything that's going on. Great CD by the way. But anyway, I am also sorry for the formatting of it, I don't really get why it bunches it all together, but oh well.  
  
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Never was and never will be . . . You don't know how you betrayed me . . . And somehow you've got everybody fooled -Evanescence, Everybody's Fool  
  
*  
  
He sat quietly surveying the room around him. Cold and lifeless were the only words that came to mind. Everything in black and gray, no wood, only steel. It had been this way since she had died, Emily had been the only warmth in his life. And now that she was gone, everything was dark. It hurt at first, knowing that he had been the cause of her untimely death, but he knew now that it was necessary, that it was fate. And there was no denying fate.  
  
He was so close to the end, so close to finally completing the quest he had begun 30 years ago. Everything was in place, the artifacts had been acquired, the machine had been assembled, the girl was in his custody; it was only a matter of time. It had been difficult at first, for he had at one time thought of her as his own, that was no lie. Watching her sleep for nearly two years knowing that to her it would seem as if he had ruined her life once she awoke, it had pained him at first. But she would have to accept her place in the prophecy eventually; she had no choice.  
  
He is interrupted from his thoughts by a loud ringing and a confused look appears on his face as he checks the ID. There was no call scheduled for today, no update to be made. Things had been quite for the last year, and he had dreaded any change that may occur.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Something's happened."  
  
"What do you *mean * something's happened?"  
  
"He left today, quite abruptly. He claimed to have a conference in D.C. but I checked his flight status and he is on his way to Hong Kong."  
  
"What makes you think this is significant?"  
  
"Mr. Sloane, this man has never lied to me before, except when it concerns her."  
  
"I see."  
  
Just then, the door burst open revealing a somewhat disheveled Sark.  
  
"Sloane . . ."  
  
"Not now Sark, can't you see that I'm busy!"  
  
"I am sure that what you are doing can wait. We have a problem."  
  
"What *kind * of a problem?"  
  
"It's Bristow."  
  
Immediately a look of shock and terror ran across his face. This cannot be happening, not when we are so close.  
  
"I am going to have to contact you later. Be waiting for my call."  
  
And with that he hung up, proceeding to follow Sark out of the room.  
  
After driving for some time they made it to the warehouse, and what he laid his eyes on sent him into panic. There were numerous guards lying on the sidewalk in front of them surrounded in a pool of blood. Without thinking twice he ran through the open doors, knowing that every piece of security he had installed would have been disarmed for this to have happened.  
  
When he finally made it into the room he found it empty and a choked scream was released from this throat. He fell to his knees and let his head fall into his hands. They were so close, everything had been perfect. He thought he had become invincible.  
  
He was wrong.  
  
"Sloane?"  
  
He did not move, he was not in the mood for conversation at the moment.  
  
"Sir, I think you may want to take a look at this."  
  
He opened his eyes to see an envelope addressed to him. Cautiously he stood, and began to tear at the seams.  
  
-Did you honestly think that I would let you get away with this?  
  
The handwriting was in precise cursive and sealed with a kiss. It could only be from one person, there was only one woman who could have had the power to betray him like this. There was only one other who knew all of his secrets.  
  
Irina Derevko. 


	4. The Flight

-I'm in a good mood so you get two chapters tonight. This ones not stellar, but I have to let Syd in on what has happened in the past two years before I throw her into a whole new life of secrets and lies. So please, R/R, the next chapter will pop up soon.  
  
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Watching you wanting me . . . I can feel you pull me down . . . Fearing you loving you . . . I won let you pull me down . . . -Evanescence, Haunted  
  
*  
  
After destroying nearly everything in sight the screaming stopped, and the tears began to fall. She fell down on the bed, the pain of the events of the day tearing at her heart. In the midst of her anger she had not stopped to consider what else had happened during her disappearance. The memory of the past two years of her life had been erased, as if they had never existed.  
  
Two years.  
  
So much could happen in two years, she knew this from experience. It had been nearly two years since she got involved in the CIA, and in that time she had seen more than anyone should. Her mother was alive and kicking, was never a mother at all, and had killed countless CIA agents, including Vaughn's. She was part of a prophecy that led people to believe she would bring the end of the world. She ruined her best friend's life and tarnished his reputation as a good standing reporter. SD-6 had been destroyed, only to unleash an even greater evil. Emily Sloane and Diane Dixon had been murdered. Her best friend had been killed and replaced by a double. And the truth that hurt the most right now was that she had fallen in love with her handler.  
  
If all that had happened in her first two years as a double agent, how much had occurred in her absence? She wanted to know so much that it hurt, but the only path to discovering the answers would cause even more pain.  
  
Her sobbing had finally ceased and she made her way over to the mirror to take one last look at herself. She now knew why she had looked so different; she was thirty-two years old. Her eyes were blood shot and her face red with tears. She did everything she could to clean herself up, yet her face looked no better than it had before. Finally she let out a loud sigh and made her way back to the bed, only to be stopped by a slight rapping on the door.  
  
"Sydney?"  
  
She heard the pain in his voice, his voice scratchy from the tears she knew he had cried. She did not want anything to do with him at the moment, but realized she had no choice.  
  
"Come in."  
  
She was impressed by the coolness of her voice, at her ability to hide the pain. Slowly he opened the door and she came face to face with something she had never wanted to see. His face was pale and streaked with tears, and his beautiful green eyes were surrounded in dark circles. Someday she would regret that she had done this to him. But that day was far off, for the pain he had caused still burnt.  
  
He stood there for a moment, surveying the room and then her. She could sense the regret in his eyes as he was reminded of the pain he had caused her, that his was *his * fault.  
  
"When's the extraction?"  
  
"There is a plane waiting for us. They will provide you with a change of clothing. It will be a long flight . . ."  
  
"Just because I have temporary amnesia doesn't mean I'm an idiot Vaughn. Are we the only two on the flight?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Great."  
  
"Look, Syd, I know you are upset, furious with me right now, but I know you have questions. I can answer whatever you want to know."  
  
"No, I don't think you can."  
  
He winces at the comment, and her eyes drift to his left hand only to find it bare. Furious, she lashes out again.  
  
"Where is your ring."  
  
"Syd . . ."  
  
"Where is your ring, Vaughn?"  
  
"It's . . .it's in my pocket."  
  
His voice is in a whisper, trying to ignore the fact that she noticed.  
  
"So, what, did you think that if you weren't wearing it, it would all just go away? Because it doesn't, it doesn't change the fact that you fell in love with another woman. If you loved the girl enough to marry her you shouldn't feel the need to hide it."  
  
He didn't reply, because he didn't know what to say. He just looked at her, wishing that somehow she would understand, yet still aware that she wasn't going to let this go easily.  
  
"Put it back on."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You will not dishonor your wife on account of your pity for me. Put the ring back on."  
  
He winced again at her tone. He was sure of it now; all she felt for him was hate, anger, resentment. And the worst of all, betrayal. Slowly he reached into his pocket and retrieved the band, placing it back on his finger. She nodded, and looked towards the door. He sighed once again and led the way out of the building.  
  
*  
  
The flight was . . .long to say the least. And one of the hardest things she had ever done. It was a rather small plane and she was mere feet from him the entire time. She felt his eyes on her the entire time; they were boring into her as if they were pleading for her forgiveness. She wanted to ask him about what she missed more than anything, but would not allow herself to. Because she knew the answers would only bring more tears and she was not about to cry in front of him. There was only one person who she had allowed herself to cry in front of in the past two years.  
  
This was not that man.  
  
So she slept, or at least attempted to sleep. With everything running through her head it was difficult. And after what seemed like forever, the plane finally landed. She awoke from her "sleep" and adjusted her eyes to the light, only to find him staring at her still. He shook his head and proceeded to attempt to help her up, only to have her resist his touch once again.  
  
When the door finally opened she found her self immediately encompassed in her fathers arms. After remaining that way for a moment or two, they pulled apart.  
  
"Oh, Sydney, you have no idea how much I've missed you."  
  
"I would say the same but . . ."  
  
She trailed off, and he understood. From what she could remember they had spoken just yesterday.  
  
"I wanted to be the first to see you but I was on assignment and . . ."  
  
"Its ok, dad."  
  
"Are you . . .ok . . .that they sent Vaughn?"  
  
"No. I'm not. But I doubt I'll ever be."  
  
"Sydney . . ."  
  
"Not now, dad. I just want to go home."  
  
"Alright. Wait here a moment."  
  
She nodded and watched as he retreated towards the other agents. Collapsing on the seat of the car, she took note of the bottle of water and sandwich lying on her fathers seat, and the realization hit her that she hadn't eat in, well, she had no idea how long ago she had eaten her last meal. Smiling at the fact that her father had known this, she took advantage of it and eagerly unwrapped the sandwich.  
  
~  
  
"Vaughn, I assume that you have means of transportation."  
  
He shuffled his feet a moment and then nodded in the direction of the parking lot.  
  
"Yeah, this is the same landing I left from."  
  
Jack took a moment to study the state of the man he had grown so close to over the past two years. He had obviously gone through hell that day, his eyes were hidden behind black rings and his whole body looked as if it no longer had the strength to stand. He knew that his daughter would have unleashed her fury on him for what he had done, but he also knew that he could not be mad at Vaughn. He had been there to watch as he had begun to fall apart, her disappearance took as great a toll on Vaughn as it had on him. While he did not condone his marriage, he also did not disapprove of it. He needed some sort of escape from the life she had dragged him into, and supported him the best he could. And now Jack was stuck in a position. His daughters' heart had been broken and he wished to torture the man who caused this pain on her by any means possible, yet he knew that he had not betrayed her love willingly.  
  
"She can't ignore the feeling of betrayal."  
  
"I know, Jack, I know."  
  
"She'll forgive you eventually though."  
  
"I seriously doubt that."  
  
"Right now she is blinded by confusion, she doesn't know what to think. You were the only person she trusted, the only person she had left. Francie was gone and Will was going through his own problems, her mother had betrayed her again and I, well I am not the worlds best father. She had expected you to always be her rock. And while it may take a good amount of time, she will regret whatever she did, or said to you. Even she knows that."  
  
Vaughn was surprised at the compassion the man had shown him. During the time she was missing, they had grown close due to the love they share for Sydney. But he would never have expected him to actually support him after causing her so much grief. He knew how hard it must be on Jack, and he respected his encouraging words.  
  
"Jack, thank you."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Take care of her until I can."  
  
"You don't need to ask."  
  
He nodded and then made his way back to her. For the first time in the past two days, his life had been hell. And Jack had given him a sign, no matter how small, of a word he thought he would never find again. Hope.  
  
~  
  
They had been driving for around ten minutes, and the car was filled with a comfortable silence. He knew she wanted to talk, but was going to let her ask in her own time. And finally, she did.  
  
"He said that Will was ok."  
  
"Yes, he was lucky. When you didn't return his calls Vaughn had driven to your house and found him in . . .in the bathtub. He had severe blood loss and countless other injuries, but they were able to help him."  
  
"And now?"  
  
"He is no longer Will Tippen. We put him into the witness protection program. Sloane was still no where to be found and his life was at risk. He went willingly, now that both you and Francie had disappeared. He works as an analyst for the agency, under the cover of a travel consultant as before."  
  
"You said Francie had disappeared."  
  
"Vaughn found no trace of you or Francie when he arrived at your home, only a broken glass and stray bullets. Whomever took you must have taken her as well."  
  
"Not Allison, *Francie *."  
  
"We never found her."  
  
And again, silence filled the car. It's better off that way, she thinks. It still hurts to know that her two best friends had their lives ruined because of her. Everyone she knew had been infected, if not already. Danny, Will, Francie . . .It was all because of her. She tried not to dwell on it before, but now it was staring her in the face.  
  
"I won't go see him. I don't want to turn his life around again, he has been given a new life, and I don't want to ruin that too."  
  
"I figured you would feel that way."  
  
"What about everyone else? Dixon, Weiss, Marshall?"  
  
"At first everyone was so drowned in trying to find you that our lives seemed to stand still. I think it allowed Dixon to move past Diane's death, and the kids are doing fine as well. Marshall . . ."  
  
He lets out a small laugh and her interest peaks.  
  
"Marshall and Carrie got married in Vegas about two weeks after you disappeared."  
  
"You're kidding me!"  
  
"Not at all. After what happened, with the talk of the prophecy and all, they both decided that they didn't want to end up alone if the world did end and like eachother enough to tie the knot. And oddly enough, they seem to have fallen quite deep in love. It's . . .cute, actually. To see the two of them bumbling around the office stealing glances at eachother. Carrie's two months pregnant as well."  
  
"Wow. I can't imagine what it will be like raising a little Marshall. Boy or girl?"  
  
"They aren't sure yet. But Marshall firmly stands next to the though of naming her or him as the case may be Sydney, either way. You should have seen him when they announced you had been found, he hasn't frowned since."  
  
She smiled at the thought, seeing Marshall again was certainly something she was looking forward to. And a ring she might actually enjoy seeing.  
  
"Weiss has been everyone's rock it seems. He was always the optimistic one offering a smile. We all appreciate that. Vaughn the most."  
  
"Dad . . ."  
  
"Look, Sydney, I know you feel as if you hate him at the moment, but you have to understand that this was hard on him too. The anger will pass eventually, you and I both know that. I know you don't want to talk about it, but when you do . . ."  
  
"I know, dad. Thank you."  
  
"Of course."  
  
She soon decided that she had enough answers to let herself sleep for a while, so she laid her head back and closed her eyes, allowing sleep to take her over for the first time in nearly two days.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-I know, this chapter wasn't all that great. But before we can get to the good stuff we have to go through the boring stuff. There are so many ideas swirling around in my head right now that I could type up a few more chapters at this rate, but lets face it. I do have a life and don't really have the time at the moment. Tomorrow I will update though, I promise. And I will try to make the next chapter a little more exciting. 


	5. The Story

-OK, now I know that there really is no plot as of yet, and I am sorry about that. But I have to build up the premise before I put the twist on everything. And it is boring as hell but it must be done. I am going to try and wrap up all the loose ends in this chapter, so it may seem as If I am bypassing some things hastily but it is all in an attempt to get to the good stuff.  
  
-Thank you all so much for the reviews! It is so nice to know that I am not the only one who couldn't sleep Monday night after what happened . . .only four months left. I am doing my best to be optimistic about that, and crossing my fingers that JJ will not let us down.  
  
-Now I am not normally in the practice of sending out shout-outs . . .but Maea, you rock. After reading your review I ran upstairs to my room to start the next chapter : ) You just made my day! Haha . . .  
  
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-  
  
-  
  
I awake to find no piece of mind . . . I said how do you live as a fugitive . . . Down here, where I cannot see so clear . . . I said what do I know, show me the right way to go . . . -Coldplay, Spies  
  
*  
  
The next few weeks were emotional hell for her. She was above average at everything she had ever done, intelligent, clever and quick, but her mind just would not process the fact that she had been nonexistent for the past two years only to come back and find everything so . . .  
  
Different.  
  
Everyone and everything around her had changed, in the two years stolen from her so much had happened. They all said that nothing had changed, but hindsight was twenty-twenty.  
  
She had been delighted to see Marshall, he was beaming from head to toe when he shared with her the details of his marriage and Carrie's pregnancy, and she had a glow to match. Her father had been right, they were to perfect match. He seemed so comfortable around her, they way his eyes lit up when she came into the room and vice-versa, it was something she missed, something she longed for, but tried not to dwell on.  
  
Dixon was the same as before, nothing had changed him. The moment he saw her he just gave her a smile and a comforting hug, no questions were asked. And for that she appreciated him. He asked her to come eat dinner with the kids and she had accepted, in turn she was rewarded the most relaxing night in days.  
  
She was shocked to notice that she had even been happy to see Kendall again. She had never been particularly fond of the guy, but at the time she would do anything for a familiar smile. He had done what he could to make the experience comfortable for her, and she could not express her thanks for that.  
  
And Weiss . . .Weiss had become her best friend. When she walked into the task force on that first day, weary and emotionally drained, he shouted her name and crossed the floor in mere seconds, immediately pulling her into a hug and spinning her in circles. And she had actually smiled and let out a laugh, a *real * laugh. From that day forward he was there for her whenever he could be.  
  
For the first week she was forced to stay in the cell her mother, Sarah Caplan, Will and Sark had all shared. She had been amused at the irony of it all at first; she finally had a glimpse of what it was like from the inside looking out. And she *hated * it. But she also knew that tests had to be taken, and precautions made; she was aware of the difficulty of the situation. One of their most valued agents who knew more confidential information than most, had been missing for the past two years, presumed dead, and had now returned with no memories of her whereabouts. It was hard, but she dealt with it with reasonable acceptance.  
  
When she was finally released she stayed with her dad, which had been . . .interesting. She had not shared a quarters with the man since she was eighteen, and even then he had not been present the majority of the time, so this was something entirely new. She began to enjoy the comfort she felt in his presence, the new bond that they now shared, but they both knew she could not stay there forever. So when a two-room apartment had been made available in Weiss's complex, she jumped at the opportunity. He had been thrilled, and she had to admit that she was as well.  
  
So after unpacking for nearly three hours, they sat on the floor digging through cartons of Chinese. They sat in silence for a moment, and while it was a comfortable silence there were things she was dying to know. At first she had avoided everything, but it had begun to get to her.  
  
"You know Syd, for a girl who has been gone for the past two years you sure have a heck of a lot of crap."  
  
"Hey, it's not crap, it's my personal belongings!"  
  
"My apologies, mademoiselle."  
  
"Plus, they got rid of half of my stuff, I still need to go shopping."  
  
He let out a small laugh and snatched the fried rice from her.  
  
"So, are you going back?"  
  
"I think so, yeah. They said I didn't have to do field work until I wanted to, that they could use me as an analyst."  
  
"Yeah, right."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Aww, come on Syd. We both know that you are not built to be a desk jockey. You would miss the adrenaline rush too much."  
  
Sighing in defeat, she grabbed a box of chicken and began to pick through it  
  
"Yeah, I guess you're right. I may not be ready to go back for a while, but I will eventually. At least until we nab Sloane."  
  
"Well, I'm sure they'll be . . ."  
  
She couldn't stand the questions running through her mind any longer, and took the moment to interrupt him.  
  
"I want to know, Weiss."  
  
"You want to know what?"  
  
"Everything that happened. I have been hiding from it for the past three weeks, but I can't stand not knowing any more."  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
He gave her a skeptical look and after a moment she nodded firmly.  
  
"You know I'm not going to mince it for you, right? You're asking for the truth and I'm gonna give it to you exactly how I saw it."  
  
Again she nodded, mentally preparing herself for whatever he had to say.  
  
"All right. Let's start from the beginning then shall we? After the debriefing, which had been measurably shorter than anyone had expected, Mike had practically ran out of the building saying something about a vacation. About twenty minutes later I received a phone call that I could barely even comprehend, all I heard through his shouts were 'missing' and 'blood'.  
  
"Kendall called everyone involved in the Rambladi case into a meeting, where Mike, who look like hell, by the way, shared with us what had happened. When he got to your house he opened the door and was immediately greeted by kitchen drawers and stray silverware. After making it past your disheveled doorway all he found in the living room were pools of blood on either end, and broken glass everywhere. He searched the house and was devastated to find Will in the bathtub but no sign of you or Francie. By the end of the story, he was in tears.  
  
"Of course an ambulance had been called and they rushed Will to the hospital and we were told he had very little chance of making it, but through some miracle he pulled through. When he woke up he requested to see Mike first and explained that it had been Francie, Allison Doran, that was the real double. This was confirmed by the test results from the blood that was found, one set had been Francies', and the other . . .yours.  
  
"From that day on, the entire task force was sent into overdrive, everything that happened was in the sole purpose of finding you. Mike . . .to say that he took it horribly would be the understatement of the year. I don't think he slept for a month. He spent every waking moment in his office, and he was a mess. He didn't change or shower for days at a time; it was painful to watch. We all tried to help, but the only person he wasn't hell-bent on yelling at was Jack. They did *everything * they could think of to find you. The funny thing was, none of it worked.  
  
"It seemed as if Sloane had just disappeared when you did, there was no movement at all. No intercepted messages, no suspicious transfers made, absolutely nothing. We didn't know if he was dead, or alive, or what the heck was going on. The same with your mother, and Sark for that matter, who if you didn't know by now escaped the night you disappeared on the way to Ft. Harris. It was so frustrating; there were no leads.  
  
"As you know, it is standard procedure that this kind of case be terminated after four months, but we pushed it to six. And after that, a lot of people began to accept the fact that you were gone. It was killing Mike, it really was, and you are going to hate me for this . . .but I had to do something. I tried to help him move past it, to try and get his life back. He screamed at me at first, said things that Mike would never say. But then something happened. I don't know what, but he just seemed to get it. After that he . . ."  
  
"Don't stop there Weiss, I said I wanted to know everything, and I meant it."  
  
After messing with his chopsticks for a moment he sighed and continued.  
  
"Emily moved into his complex shortly after you disappeared, and he eventually asked her out. He was never really thrilled about their relationship, but began to warm up to her after a while. She was good for him, I guess."  
  
"You 'guess'?"  
  
"Well, I don't know, she just seemed to convenient. To, perfect, for lack of a better word. She never raises her voice, she never says anything controversial, and she always dotes on him as if he is the world. And . . .  
  
"And what?"  
  
His gaze caught the empty walls in front of them and he just stared for a moment, as if debating with himself weather or not to share it with her.  
  
"I don't know, it's nothing I guess. She was nice enough, no one really liked her because . . .well, she wasn't you, but we knew he had to move on and she was good for him. After about five months they got married, in the smallest ceremony known to man. And their honeymoon lasted about three days, they never left LA. I always wondered why she had accepted that, most women would have wanted some extravagant thing, but she seemed to not mind the hush-hush of it all. About a month after that, he was transferred out of the formerly-known-as-SD-6-now-Sloane-Sark-and-Dreveko office and does analyzing in another LA building. It was just too hard for him."  
  
This part she knew. He had been in and out of the task force regularly but she noticed that his office no longer had his name stamped on it. This had been a relief to her, because she hadn't been ready to face him, she was still furious.  
  
She looked at Weiss and knew what he was trying to say to her.  
  
"Oh, Weiss, I want to forgive him, I really do, but I just . . ."  
  
"Don't Sydney, no one expects you too. This was a major blow to both of you, and it will take a while for it to pass. He understands that. It's just hard for him, knowing you are here in LA and he can't be with you, that's got to hurt. He still loves you, he never stopped and never will, but . . ."  
  
"But he made a commitment to his . . .wife . . .and he would never break that. And I can't ask him too."  
  
"Someday, though, you are going to have to talk to him. You know that right? You can't just bury your past and forget it. The only way whatever you're feeling is going to go away is if you talk to him."  
  
She lets out a loud sigh and gives him a reassuring smile.  
  
"I know. Someday."  
  
"All right then, Miss Bristow, as much as I would like to sit here and devour the rest of this food, I am going to leave you to absorb everything I just said. Try to get some sleep, ok?"  
  
"I will. And Weiss?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Thank you, thank you so much for everything. I can never repay what you've done for me . . ."  
  
"You don't have to, it's been my pleasure. Now give me some sugar before I go."  
  
He says this with a smile and she lets out a loud laugh. It's been an inside joke of theirs and she enjoys recalling pleasant memories of the past. She gives him a hug and they exchange their good-byes.  
  
After cleaning up what was left of the carry-out she made herself a make- shift bed with blankets and pillows, changed into a pair of sweats and a tank top, and attempted to get some sleep.  
  
But after glancing at the clock for the seventeenth time in three hours, she realized that sleep was not going to come. And there was only one way she could find it.  
  
Slipping out from under the blankets she found her cell phone and proceeded to call a number she knew by heart, a number that she had considered her life line and at one point, a number that try as she might, just could not forget.  
  
After listening to it ring for the third time, she thanked God that a male voice answered her, and that voice was expectedly full of confusion.  
  
"He . . .hello?"  
  
"Joey's Pizza?"  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-Don't you love cliffhangers? Well, at least the pleasant kind? I know your wondering where I came up with the notion that it would be Weiss who was at her side. Well, the damned WE network keeps airing Felicity re-runs, and while I never got into the show in the first place I decided to give it a try and I realized how much I love Greg Grungberg. And while I know I will never do justice to the character, I missed him and took it upon myself to give him a bigger role. So there you go . . .be sure to REVIEW! 


	6. The Warehouse

-First and foremost thank you SO MUCH for the fantastic reviews! Keep them coming!  
  
-OK, before you read this chapter, you have to understand my point of view. Due to the finale I am angry, therefore making Sydney angry. I know that she may or may not have reacted the way I have written, but that's what fanfic's for, right? And also, Vaughn is like, the worst husband ever in this story. But by the time I get to the main plot it will make more sense. And if not, keep in mind that she IS NOT SYDNEY therefore he I cannot allow him to express any feelings of intimacy or compassion towards the woman because it is impossible for me to right. Don't blame me, my fingers just won't type it. So there you go.  
  
-Alright, I know that I said that most of the quotes would be from Evanescence, but I threw a few in from Coldplay, because, well, I love them. Enjoy:)  
  
-  
  
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-  
  
Oh no, I see . . . This spider web is tangled up with me . . . And I lost my head . . . At the thought of all the stupid things I'd said . . . -Coldplay, Trouble  
  
*  
  
As she pulled her new black CIA issued jeep up to the warehouse, she silently laughed when at the sight of his car waiting for her. He had always been there before she had, no matter how fast she drove. And on most occasions, she had broken the every damn speed limit to get here. She never had been one to follow the rules.  
  
The entire drive here she had fought with herself over weather or not she should have called him. He had told her once that whenever she needed to talk, she had his number. But things were different now, she was no longer his top priority. He had a . . .  
  
He had a wife.  
  
The word still stung, and nearly brought tears to her eyes. She wondered what all she knew about his occupation, if he had said anything about her. How could he have explained rushing off in the middle of the night? The thing was, she didn't feel guilty for calling him. She knew she should, that he had a new life now and wasn't at her beck and call, but she deserved this much. Who ever she was, she got to spend the rest of her life with Michael Vaughn; the least she could do was let her see him for just one night.  
  
She saw his head snap at the sound of her footsteps in the still warehouse. It had been a long time since she had been here, ignoring the fact that she had been missing for two years. After the fall of the Alliance, there was really no need to meet at the warehouse, and she had to say that she had missed it.  
  
When she finally reached him, he was the first to speak, and quite panicked at that.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
"Yeah, Vaughn, I'm fine. Well, physically speaking. I just . . . I wanted to talk. I know that I probably woke . . ."  
  
"I wasn't sleeping. I'm glad you called me."  
  
"I wasn't sure you would come."  
  
"I will always come, Sydney."  
  
And it was silent again. They both sat leaning with their backs against the desk, as they had done so often in the past. But now it was different, there were no longing glances and tentative looks, there was no wishing for what they couldn't have. The difference was, they *could * have it, and he had screwed that up.  
  
"Weiss and I . . . we've become close."  
  
"He told me."  
  
"I moved into his complex tonight, he helped me unpack and we ordered Chinese . . ."  
  
"You're favorite."  
  
She looks over at him, a hint of surprise in her eyes. She hadn't expected him to remember such minute details.  
  
"Yeah, it is. Well, we . . .we talked."  
  
"About Emily."  
  
"Well, yeah. About Emily."  
  
She lets out a small, sarcastic laugh and he responds with a questioning look.  
  
"I just, it's funny to think I hate someone I don't even know. I have never considered myself a jealous person, but every time I hear her name, or even the word 'wife' for that matter . . ."  
  
"Sydney . . ."  
  
"No, Michael, just let me talk for a minute. He told me everything that happened after I disappeared, quite descriptively at that. And when he was done, he told me that someday I would have to talk to you about this, that it was the only way to get any answers. After what he had said, I just couldn't get to sleep. So I figured that today was as good as any day."  
  
"I'm glad you called."  
  
"You're sure she wasn't upset?"  
  
"She didn't even wake up."  
  
"So what if she wakes up to find you missing?"  
  
He stops for a moment and the wrinkles on his forehead begin to appear.  
  
"I hadn't really thought of that."  
  
"And to think you were a spy."  
  
They both shared a smile, and things got silent once again. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he looked up at her.  
  
"Sydney, do you have any idea what kind of hell I went through after that night? You were my whole world, and you were gone. Just gone. There was no mission, there was no big battle you were scheduled to take part in, there was no warning. For a while, I kept blaming myself. If only I had gone upstairs with you, I could have stopped it from happening. Eventually I figured that that theory was getting me no where. I won't go into details because I'm sure that Weiss did that for me, but you have to know that before I go to sleep and when I wake up, you're my first thought, and when I dream it's your face I see. And I *know * that it's wrong, that I'm married and I should be thinking of . . .her. But the thing is, I don't care. I don't want to stop loving you, and I don't think I can."  
  
She just looks at him, and for the first time since she had returned she gives him a smile. Because there is nothing she can say. There are no words that would fit, because while she wants to tell him to leave his wife, that she's back and she wants him, she knows she can't do that. When it was with Alice, things had been different; there were no vows or rings.  
  
"As much as I want to, I can't ask you to be unfaithful to your wife."  
  
"And as much as I want you to, I know that you can't, I wouldn't be able to do that to her."  
  
"I feel like such a horrible person for the thoughts going through my head. I am going to hell for this."  
  
He gives her a laugh, and the fact that she isn't the one that wakes up to his smile every morning stings.  
  
"I think you have a few freebies considering the fact that you've single handedly saved the world more than once."  
  
"Not single handedly, you guys tell me what to do, and I just do it."  
  
"You can never just take that as a compliment, can you?"  
  
"I guess not."  
  
And again, there is silence. And before she knows it, words are spilling out of her mouth before she has a chance to comprehend them.  
  
"Can we, I don't know, get together some times? I know it's a lot to ask but I . . ."  
  
"Sydney, I would like that. A lot. I haven't seen you in two years, I wouldn't give up and chance to spend time with you."  
  
It is wrong. And they both know that.  
  
He has a wife; he is a married man.  
  
But neither seems to care. All they want is to spend time together, now what's the harm in that?  
  
That's a question they both know the answer to. Because while it isn't as obvious as it was before, the connection between them, the passion, the look in their eyes when they are with each other, it's still there. And it's only a matter of time before they can no longer ignore that.  
  
~  
  
She had left a good thirty minutes ago, and he had remained another thirty after that. He sat in the silence of the warehouse, of *their * warehouse, and did what he could to try and tell himself that he was looking forward to going home to his wife. That he would go home to find her sound asleep and he would smile because *she * was the one in his bed.  
  
But after thirty minutes he came to the conclusion that it was *ok * to have these kind of thoughts here in the warehouse. After all, it was *their * warehouse. Plus, he was well aware that he could not push Sydney from his thoughts entirely, that would just be impossible. So he made a pact with himself. He would allow himself to ponder the what-ifs, but only here. No where else would he consume himself with regret and longing and other thoughts that would betray his wife.  
  
It took much convincing on his part, but finally he made his way out to his car. The drive home had been long and he reveled in the irony of the situation. He was leaving his *true * love for his . . .love. Because he did love his wife, he would not deny that. But it wasn't the kind of soul- consuming, passionate, blinding love he had with Sydney.  
  
And then he told himself to shut up. Because his car was not the warehouse.  
  
Finally he made it back to their apartment. He figured they should have owned a home by now she hadn't brought it up and he most certainly wasn't about to.  
  
As softly as he could he unlocked the door and made his way inside, dropping his keys and wallet on the table. Silently he crept his way into their bedroom, removed his shoes and slid into to bed. And for some reason, he was shocked to hear her voice.  
  
"You're back."  
  
He could see her gentle smile even in the dark.  
  
"I, uh, yeah."  
  
Again she smiles and then turned back to the position she was in.  
  
"Emily? Aren't you going to ask where I was?"  
  
"I figured that if you wanted me to know, you would tell me."  
  
After a moment of not responding he heard her yawn and presumed that she had fallen back to sleep. And while part of him was thanking God that she hadn't brought up the subject, another part of him was furious.  
  
Why didn't she want to know?  
  
Wasn't she curious?  
  
If she had been the one creeping out in the middle of the night he would have jumped down her throat about it. Yet she didn't question him at all. Now, he wasn't one to start fights. But once he thought about it, they had *never * fought about *anything *. Not about movies, restaurants, work . . .come to think of it, he seemed to always get his way. At first he had just notched it up as another compatibility factor, they had the same taste in everything. But that was just *too * ironic. Wasn't it?  
  
Before he had time to answer the question, the logical side of him kicked in. --Just consider yourself lucky Mikey, and get some damned sleep. - So he did.  
  
*  
  
"So."  
  
"So."  
  
"Still nothing?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
Eric Weiss sat fidgeting in his chair, trying to figure out how to word what he really wanted to ask her the right way. Not that he didn't want to know how the regression-therapy had gone, because he did. A few days after she moved into his complex she began working with the therapist. But they had made no progress at whatsoever, and her answer was the same every time he asked. And if they did have some kind of a break through, he knew she would have told him the minute she saw him.  
  
Asking her was just his way to add filler to the conversation, to post-pone what he really intended on talking to her about. But considering the topic, he knew very well that 'talking' was not what they would be doing, and there was no way in hell she wasn't going to leave his office completely pissed off.  
  
"Sydney?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I, uh, I talked to Mike the other day."  
  
"Oh really? How is he?"  
  
"I think you know very well how he is, considering the fact that you saw him just yesterday."  
  
Immediately her teeth clenched and he watched as her fists slowly curled into a ball. He was used to her reacting like such when things weren't going her way.  
  
"He told you."  
  
"Yeah, cause, you know, that's what friends do. They tell each other when they start spending time hanging out with their married ex."  
  
"I don't need this from you Eric."  
  
"Well you need it from somebody."  
  
"As a matter of fact I don't. I am perfectly capable of handling the situation on my own. And if I remember correctly, it was you who told me I needed to talk to him in the first place!"  
  
"Sydney, meeting on a weekly basis in a clandestine warehouse for hours at a time is not the same as trying to move on! In fact, I do believe it is exactly the opposite."  
  
"Well, I think we both know that any attempt at moving on from Vaughn would be futile. So don't give me your 'married man' crap because I am reminded daily by the RING ON HIS FINGER. I don't need you to reiterate the obvious."  
  
"Sydney, I didn't want to start something, I'm just trying to look out for you."  
  
"Trying to keep me away from the man I love is not helping me! And you know what, I really am NOT in the mood to be having this conversation right now. So if you'll excuse me, I have two Goddamn years to remember."  
  
She shot him one last death stare and proceeded to stomp her way out of his office, not hesitating to slam the door on her way out.  
  
"Yeah, well, YOU GO DO THAT."  
  
Somehow he knew that this conversation would end with him getting his last word in with the freaking door. The thing was that whether or not she wanted to admit it, he was right. And it may take a day or two, knowing Sydney it may even be a week, but she would apologize. That's how she was, she would turn into tough-ass Sydney and spit out words and accusations only to return to her calm self shortly afterwards.  
  
The only thing was that in time in between she was known to act . . .impulsively. And in the current circumstances that may not work out to anyone's advantage.  
  
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-See . . . told you Syd was going to be a little on the upset side. And also, just got finished watching Two Weeks Notice so a little bit of classic Hugh Grant sarcasm may have rubbed off. Adorable movie, by the way. Now go and let me know what you thought, and I may get 7 up early tomorrow. That is if I wake up before noon . . . 


	7. The Answers

-Less reviews for the last one, but Jenn made up for it. For you to even consider me up there with Raw Precision, which I find absolutely amazing, is unbelievable. I was working on my website (which all of you need to visit immediately after reading this!) but when I got your review I got off my butt to go write this chapter!  
  
-No quote this time, I couldn't find one that fit. Let me know if you think of a good one though.  
  
-Note: I know that the dates are most likely not accurate in this, but just go with it, k? All of the medical mumbo jumbo is probably wrong as well, but that's not really too important, I just needed to get the gist of what happened out there and didn't feel like dwelling on it. Also this one's pretty short, but Spy Madre makes an appearance so I think you'll forgive me (  
  
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After passing the same park for the third time she reminded herself that she had to stop running eventually, she had to go home. Ever since her fight with Weiss she had been running in circles with the sole purpose of staying away from her apartment. Because there was a computer and a phone in her apartment, therefor giving the outside world access to her. And at the moment she did not want to deal with anyone, not her father, not Weiss, and not Vaughn. But she knew that she could only avoid reality for so long, and headed back towards her complex.  
  
Letting out one final sigh she finally turned the key and made her way into the apartment. Tossing the key on the counter she turned on the lights and grabbed a water from the fridge and began stretching. Eventually she made it over to the answering machine and sure enough, three messages were awaiting her arrival.  
  
'You have -three- new messages.'  
  
'First message. Thursday, June 12th, three thirty two.'  
  
"Hello Miss Bristow this is Dr. Barnett. I was just calling to confirm our session scheduled for next Tuesday. Please call me when you receive this, I believe you have the number."  
  
'Second Message. Thursday, June 12th, three fifty one.'  
  
"Beep beep beep beep"  
  
Danmed hang-ups.  
  
'Third message. Thursday, June 12th, four eleven.'  
  
"Hi, Sydney, it's your father. I was just . . .checking up on you. I wanted to let you know that the lab results of the scar on your stomach are still inconclusive. Please call me when you get the chance."  
  
'End of messages'  
  
She guzzled the remaining water, left the bottle on the counter and made her way to back towards her bedroom.  
  
What was this scar? Ever since she got back they had been analyzing her to see if any drugs had been used on her while she had been gone, and they had come up with absolutely nothing. They had begun to believe that the scar on her stomach was just that, a scar, but she didn't buy it. She would not have been missing for two years and come back with nothing wrong with her. It meant something; it had to. Whomever had taken her didn't do it just for the heck of kidnapping her, there was a reason behind it. And considering the fact it was most likely Sloane who had held her captive it probably had something to do with the "prophecy".  
  
Sighing again she turned the knob and walked into her dark bedroom. If only she could . . .  
  
"Hello Sydney."  
  
She stopped short at the sight of her mother sitting a mere five feet away from her on her desk chair. Immediately her jaw clenched and her whole body became tense. What was *she * doing in her room?  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?"  
  
"What, I can't come visit my only daughter?"  
  
"You're daughter? Excuse me, but a mother normally doesn't shoot, tazer, or knock out her daughter."  
  
"Sydney . . ."  
  
"I suggest that you leave before I call the . . ."  
  
"Will you please sit down a minute and hear me out?"  
  
"And how do I know you aren't going to poison me or . . ."  
  
"Do not let your stubborn nature stop you from learning the answers for questions that only I can tell you."  
  
"Was it you? Are you the one who stole two years of my life!"  
  
Sydney started to walk towards her mother with blind rage evident in her eyes. Immediately she found herself being flipped on her bed and suddenly her mother was sitting next to her with full control of Sydney's wrists above her head.  
  
"You have a choice Sydney. No, I am not who held you captive, but I do know who did. I know the details as well and you can either tell me to leave right now, or you can calm down for just five minutes and let me explain."  
  
Sydney sighed in defeat and felt her mothers grasp loosen, but not completely.  
  
"I'll take that as a yes then?"  
  
"You only have five minutes."  
  
"You only remember up to your fight with Allison, correct? Shortly after that Sark escaped federal custody on his way to Ft. Harris and somehow made it to your home to extract you and deliver you to Sloane before anyone discovered you. He had full control of all forty-seven Rambaldi artifacts and had completed the device. Now all he needed was you. The only problem was that the prophecy was not meant to be carried out until July 17, 2005. So he had to find a way to keep you in his custody for two years."  
  
"Why don't I remember any of it, why doesn't the regression therapy work?"  
  
"Because you have nothing to remember Sydney, technically you weren't actually there. Apparently Sloane had acquired a new drug of some sort that could cause a person to go in to a coma until injected with the counter- drug. So all he had to do was sit and wait for the next two years. That explains the lack of activity that went on during your disappearance."  
  
"The scar."  
  
"There was one test that the CIA had not been aware of. The woman in the prophecy would have scared a certain way after going through a specific operation. What exact operation that is, I am still not sure."  
  
"Was I a match?"  
  
" . . .Yes."  
  
"And how do you know all of this?"  
  
"Before I turned against Sloane he had shared with me everything he knew about Rambaldi and his prophecy as well as his future plans. After his visit to the monk, the man who led him to the prophecy to start with, he learned of my betrayal and changed the codes and locations of everything. It took me almost two years to discover the whereabouts of his safe house and acquire the counter-drug."  
  
Finally her mothers grasp completely loosened and Sydney sat back on her heals and let what she just heard process. It had been her mother who released her from Sloane, when no one else had the ability to she had come through, if it hadn't of been for her . . . She sighed again and decided it was best not to dwell on what could have been.  
  
"Vaughn's married."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you let them know that I was OK?"  
  
"Sydney, for the first year the security on me was so tight that if I had attempted to re-enter the US I would have been taken into custody and prevented from finding you. That is why I left you in Hong Kong, it would have been to risky to go back to the states with you still unconscious."  
  
"July 17 is in a month."  
  
"I know. This is why you must still be careful. While the search for me has loosened somewhat Sloane is still on high security watch, as is Sark, so it would be tricky for either of them to enter the states."  
  
"They could use someone from the inside."  
  
"And I am sure they will. Have you met her?"  
  
Normally she would have asked who 'her' was, but she knew very well who 'her' was. It was the 'her' who had stolen her heart.  
  
"No. I don't plan too either."  
  
"Sydney, you must keep in mind that nothing is as it seems."  
  
"What do you . . ."  
  
"I have already been here for too long, I must leave. Take care of yourself Sydney."  
  
Her mother quickly made her way through the room and exited through the back window.  
  
She finally had her answers. The thing was that before, she had thought the answers would make the questions in her mind disappear, only to find that more had formed.  
  
*  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I need you to meet her."  
  
"Isn't that too risky?"  
  
"I am at the point where the risk is no longer a factor."  
  
"I don't think he would feel comfortable introducing us . . ."  
  
"No, this can't be done through him. You have to meet out of coincidence, at the mall or the gas station."  
  
"Yes of course."  
  
"I am counting on you to do this successfully."  
  
"Have I ever disappointed you?"  
  
"No. Very well then. Goodbye."  
  
She hit end and took the phone away from her ear, glancing at it for a moment with a smile on her face. After two years of playing the role of the perfect wife, she had finally been given an order of some importance.  
  
And she would not fail.  
  
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-I know, I know, cheesy ending. But I had to reiterate the fact that she is not your average soulmate-steeling plot device. Go and review, the more I get the faster I write ( 


	8. The Bad Day

-I am so sorry for the lack of an update but this weekend I have been busy with my new web page (check it out . . .) and have been lacking on time. But I think that you will like this chapter, a certain mysterious character has finally been introduced to everyone's favorite CIA Agent. *Wink *  
  
-Yet again, no quote. I am lacking on lyrics that are fitting for these story lines, so let me know if you have any suggestions.  
  
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"I have to go out for a bit."  
  
"How long do you think you'll be?"  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
"All right."  
  
He stared at her for a moment, watched as she flipped aimlessly through her magazine. She did this often, ever since the Telecommunications Company she had worked at downsized she spent her time doing pointless activities. The thing was, sometimes she didn't even seem to be paying attention to what she was doing. Like now, her eyes were looking at the pages, but they didn't seem to be taking in any information. He found it odd, but wasn't about to second-guess her intentions.  
  
He walked towards her and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then turned to leave.  
  
"I'll see you when I get home."  
  
"Ok. Bye."  
  
After shutting the door, walking down the stairs and opening the door to his car, he sat for a moment trying to silence the screaming going through his head.  
  
Why doesn't she care?  
  
I am her husband, is she not curious as to what I do with my time?  
  
Eventually, the logical side of his head took over and reminded him that he was lucky to have married such an understanding woman, he was just being paranoid and should thank God that she hadn't asked questions that he would have to lie to her about.  
  
Yet for some reason, this time his CIA enhanced instincts would not let it go completely.  
  
*  
  
He was late. She knew that she shouldn't be worrying, that he had a life and she was not number one on his priority list. But he was never, ever late.  
  
Her questions were soon silenced as she heard a vehicle approach the warehouse and soon after his footsteps approaching her. For some reason he looked perplexed tonight, more than usual.  
  
"I'm so sorry I'm late, I just . . ."  
  
"You don't have to explain."  
  
"But if things had been the other way around . . ."  
  
"No, seriously, don't explain."  
  
He shook his head and proceeded to take his seat on the table next to her as they had done for the past month or so. Both had come to look forward to these late night meetings, no matter how tense and heart wrenching they always turned out to be.  
  
"You went through more regression-therapy today, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She shifted uncomfortably and he knew she wasn't fond of the subject, but that eventually she would spill all of it out on him.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And nothing. They were pointless, as usual."  
  
She had given the same answer to that question every day he asked, but today something was different. Something in her voice, something in her eyes. She was lying to him and he hated it.  
  
"Sydney, don't lie to me."  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Damnit Syd, you know that I can read you like a book and I know when you're hiding something from me."  
  
She did not answer his accusation and instead locked her eyes on the cold, gray concrete floor. His teeth clenched as he spat out his next statement.  
  
"You know that I can't stand it when you keep things from me."  
  
"You know what, you look the same as you did when I questioned your loyalty."  
  
"Sydney . . ."  
  
"I never did get that key did I."  
  
"Stop trying to change the subject!"  
  
She looked up at him and took note of his agitated features and let out a sigh. Going into this situation she knew that he would know something was up. She knew very well that he could read her like a book and that it drove him crazy when she lied to him.  
  
"Vaughn, the regression-therapy, it will never work."  
  
"I know that it seems that way but . . ."  
  
"NO Michael, you don't understand. I am not being pessimistic; I'm completely serious. The sessions won't work because there is nothing for me to remember."  
  
He looked at her quizzically and she watched as his forehead slowly began to wrinkle.  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"I had a visit today."  
  
"From who?"  
  
"Derevko."  
  
She watched as his expression shifted from confused to shocked and the look of rage in his eyes was unmistakable.  
  
"You WHAT? That woman was in your home and you didn't call someone?"  
  
"No, Vaughn, I . . ."  
  
"Sydney, we have been searching for her endlessly for the past two years and you didn't even think to let somebody know? Weiss, your father, me even? For Christ sakes Sydney I . . ."  
  
"Well excuse me Vaughn, but I'd like to see you use a cell phone while your hands are pinned above your head!"  
  
The annoyed tone in her suddenly loud voice causes him to look away. After a moment he turns his eyes back to her and lets out a small sigh.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Yeah, well, try not and jump to conclusions next time if you don't mind."  
  
"What did she say."  
  
"The reasons that I don't remember anything is because there is nothing to remember. I have been in a coma for the past two years in some safe house that Sloane set up."  
  
"How is that possible?"  
  
"He purchased some kind of new drug that simply requires a counter-agent to bring someone back to full consciousness, which she acquired before she released me."  
  
"So she knew? This whole time she knew exactly where you were and she didn't have the courtesy to tell one of us? If we had known . . ."  
  
"Don't Michael, it does no good to dwell on it like that. All she told me was that it would have been to risky for he to return to the states."  
  
He moved his mouth to ask further questions but decided against it. She was right, there was nothing they could do now.  
  
"So she's gone."  
  
"I have no idea where she is. For all I know she could be waiting outside for me."  
  
"Sydney . . ."  
  
"I know, I know. It's just, there are so many things that I hate about this, so many things that could have gone differently but didn't. This just pushed it over the edge."  
  
"I'm coming back to the task force."  
  
"No, you're not."  
  
"I cannot just sit back and watch this happen from the side-lines, I can't stand watching you go through this knowing that I am doing nothing about it."  
  
"Don't you get it Vaughn? Things aren't the same as they used to be, you can't always come running to my rescue. You see that band on your finger? You are a married man."  
  
"Me leaving the task force had nothing to do with my wife, I left because there was nothing else to do, there were no leads. And now that you're back I am not about to sit on my ass and analyze paperwork. Believe it or not some of us want Sloane dead just as much as you do."  
  
"I doubt that."  
  
"Well don't. Because I want more than anything to have that man murdered . . .I don't care how, I just want him gone. Plus, I already sent my request into Kendall."  
  
"What if he won't accept it."  
  
"He will."  
  
She looked at him and merely shook her head. She did not want him to get sucked into this world again, his life somewhat resembled normalcy for once and he shouldn't take that for granted. But she knew that there was no changing his mind on this, he was going to go through with it whether she liked it or not.  
  
"Fine. Whatever. It's not like I can stop you is it."  
  
"No, you can't."  
  
"Well, this really has been a nice little chat but I have to be going."  
  
"Wait. Are you going to tell them."  
  
"No. What good what it do? They'll stop the therapy eventually if it doesn't work, and I'm not even sure I believe her."  
  
"That's probably the best idea. Hey, Sydney?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I'm glad we do this. You know, talk."  
  
"So am I. Goodnight Vaughn."  
  
He watched as she made her way out of the warehouse as he had done so many times before. He was completely shocked to find himself missing the days where he had spent his days pinning over her, the days where he could watch her walk away and wish he was walking with her without feeling a barrage of guilt. Laughing, he admitted that those days were so much less complicated. But still he would not take back what had happened, because while he was in hell right now those few months he had spent with her were worth it.  
  
*  
  
That night she had not slept at all. With everything that was going on she wasn't surprised. So when her alarm clock failed to go off, she didn't have enough shampoo to wash half of her hair and had forgotten to get milk the other day she knew things were only going to get worse. Because this meant going to the grocery store, which was something she simply hated.  
  
The grocery store was a place normal people went to buy food for their normal families and the normalcy of it all was glaring in her face. She tried her best to avoid going, but she had to eat so it was ultimately a useless attempt.  
  
She wasn't surprised at all to find that the cart she had chosen had squeaky tires, including one that was loose and would not allow her to roll it straight down the isle. Sighing in frustration she made her way towards the milk, which was conveniently placed in the back so she had to navigate through rows and rows of food to get what she wanted.  
  
After finally getting her milk she grabbed a few other items, fruit, bread, popcorn, and suddenly remembered her lack of shampoo earlier that morning, and mentally praised herself for the epiphany.  
  
There was something else she hated about the grocery store: it was like one huge reminder that she had been gone for two years. The brands were the same, but nothing looked the same. Different colors, different shapes, different sizes. The difference of it all made her head hurt.  
  
Finally, she found a label that seemed somewhat similar, but there was still an obstacle. The shampoo bottles all seemed to be stacked into some- sort of a pyramid, and all of the visible hair types didn't match her own. Apparently everyone had 'color treated' or 'permed' hair these days.  
  
What is wrong with theses people? Do they actually think I am more apt to buy their shampoo if it is stacked in some clever design?  
  
Suddenly she spotted the type in which she was looking for, but only to cause yet another problem to add to her list. Upon grabbing the desired bottle nearly half of the arrangement toppled down on her.  
  
"Damnit!"  
  
Crouching down she began to pick up the various bottles and stack them as well as possible, more embarrassed than she could imagine. Out of no where, she heard a woman's voice and a figure appear on the floor in front of her scooping up the bottles.  
  
"Don't you hate it when this happens?"  
  
Sydney smiled at the kindness of the woman though she still did not have a clear view of the source of the voice; her long brown hair had fallen in front of her face as she bent over to collect more shampoo. She had, however, noticed a very simple, almost nonexistent wedding band on the lady's ring finger.  
  
"Just makes a bad day worse."  
  
"I know how you feel."  
  
The lady finally turned to Sydney and offered her hand. She returned the sentiment, but it was the last thing on Sydney's mind when she heard what the woman said next.  
  
Sydney Bristow was a CIA agent, she had been thrown out of windows, broken more bones than she could count, and even been shot by her own mother. But nothing, *nothing *, had ever hurt as much as what the woman said next.  
  
"Hi, I'm Emily Vaughn."  
  
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-Everyone has been commenting on the evil nature of the new Mrs. Vaughn, and now you finally get to meet her. Quite a cliffhanger don't you think? Hehe . . . If you're lucky than I will get the next chapter in by tomorrow, but with school and what not it may be difficult. So cross your fingers and pray that I am not bombarded with homework once again.  
  
-Kudos to anyone who noticed the dialogue I stole from JJ : ) 


	9. The Replacement

-Damn my Spanish teacher! I have more homework than imaginable and just arggggg. I would loved to have updated this more quickly but homework has kept me busy.  
  
-Jenn, Jenn, Jenn . . .your reviews always have me smiling ( And at the same time have me feeling guilty for not updating more quickly! Haha . . . Thanks again for your support! And to everyone else who is reviewing, thank you as well, it just makes my day to hear that people actually like what I'm writing!  
  
-I am so glad everyone is getting the evil vibe I am trying to give Emily so well. It is so fun writing her because she just infuriates me and eventually I get to . . .well, you'll find out soon enough. He he. Without further delay, here's 9. Enjoy, and be sure to review!  
  
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"Why didn't you TELL ME!"  
  
"Take a minute and look at yourself Syd. I was merely attempting to postpone this anger as long as possible!"  
  
Eric Weiss sat on his couch quite relaxed, while Sydney on the other hand was rapidly pacing across the room. He sighed as he watched her burn holes into his carpet.  
  
"Well if you had said something maybe I would have been prepared for it!"  
  
"Do you honestly think that it would have made it any easier?"  
  
"Damnit Weiss! He didn't try and move on, he REPLACED me! Good Lord, that woman could have been my twin!"  
  
"Don't you think I know that?"  
  
"Do you? Really, do you? It was like looking into a mirror, the same height and weight, same facial features . . ."  
  
"Same eyes and same hair. I know, Syd."  
  
"Did you bother telling him?"  
  
"And why on earth would I do that?"  
  
She stopped and looked at him incredulously for a moment.  
  
"Look, Syd, you know how in every television show that ever aired there is always an episode where the best friend sees something not-so-good going on with his pals girl, and attempts to tell his pal in order to prepare him for the worst, but in the end the best friend just gets yelled at by the pal for being jealous, therefor exterminating best friend status?"  
  
"But the 'pal' always ends up discovering the truth anyway."  
  
"Right. So I skipped the whole 'extermination of best friend status' bit, because that can be painful."  
  
"And did your 'pal' ever end up discovering that he married a near clone of his MIA girlfriend?"  
  
"Well, no."  
  
"Weiss!"  
  
"I figured he would get to that eventually."  
  
"I am not going to even honor that with an answer."  
  
"Well, you know, you could always tell him."  
  
"OK, I can't even listen to this anymore."  
  
Once again her sighed and motioned to the couch. At first refusing, she finally took her seat, crossed her legs and arms, and began to pout.  
  
"You're pouting."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Yes ma'am."  
  
"This is just so hard, I . . ."  
  
As he saw the tears began to form in her eyes he scooted down to her end of the couch.  
  
"He was supposed to be the one, Weiss. He was it. There wasn't going to be anyone else. We were so happy, we actually had a future. And it . . . it's so hard knowing that he is living that future with someone else, pretending she's me."  
  
She swiped furiously at her eyes trying to rid the evidence of her hurt. He consoling put his arm around her and pulled her close.  
  
"Sydney, listen to me. Just because she *looks * like you doesn't mean she *is * you. She doesn't even come close."  
  
"I could take her."  
  
"I don't doubt that. I also don't advise it."  
  
A smile reaches his face as a small laugh escapes from her mouth.  
  
"Thank you Weiss."  
  
"Anytime, Syd."  
  
"I'm sorry for yelling at you the other day."  
  
"Yeah well, seeing as your regular punching bag seems to be occupied at the moment, I am glad to fill in."  
  
"At the moment?"  
  
"You do know it won't last, don't you?"  
  
"Don't say that."  
  
"It's the truth. It wasn't going to last without you here, and your return just ups the odds."  
  
"I still don't want to think about that. It's . . ."  
  
"I know."  
  
She shifted out of his arms and stood up, attempting to de-wrinkle her skirt and dry the tears from her eyes. He stifled a laugh at the sight of this.  
  
"Look, I would really love to stay, but . . ."  
  
"I know. I'll see you later?"  
  
"Yeah. Thanks again, for everything."  
  
"No thanks needed."  
  
They shared one last smile and she left.  
  
Upon entering her apartment, for some odd reason she began to check every room for intruders. After the unexpected visit from earlier that week she didn't want any more surprises. Letting go of a breath she didn't know she was holding, she collapsed on her bed. It had been one of the longest days she had ever had, and it was only one o'clock.  
  
It had shaken her up more than a bit to hear the name 'Vaughn' come out of the woman's mouth, and had caused her to immediately check the time on the watch she wasn't wearing and announcing a meeting she didn't have.  
  
It hadn't taken more time than that to notice the similarity between herself and the woman. Normally, when someone was said to look like you it was hard to believe and normally denied. But this was an unmistakable likeness. The hair, the eyes, even her skin tone matched perfectly.  
  
It made sense of course, that a grieving man would latch onto someone who replicated the one he had lost. But she still hadn't expected it. The similarity, it was too much, almost as if . . .  
  
Out of nowhere, the end of conversation she had with her mother started to replay in her mind.  
  
--"Have you met her yet? -  
  
--"No, and I don't plan to."-  
  
--"You must remember Sydney, nothing is ever as it seems."-  
  
No. It couldn't be. There was just no way.  
  
She began repeating the phrase over and over again in her head, trying to convince herself that there was no hidden subtext within her mothers' words. But it wasn't working.  
  
Slowly, a plan began to formulate in Sydney Bristows mind. It was a plan that would most likely get her into trouble, but one that she could not likely ignore.  
  
*  
  
"Hey Weiss."  
  
Normally he would be happy to hear his long-time friends' voice in his less than friendly office, but today all of the memories from earlier that day came flooding back. Without looking up to acknowledged his arrival he replied.  
  
"Vaughn."  
  
"It's weird being back her after so long. Like things should have changed but they didn't."  
  
"You weren't gone for that long."  
  
"I know, but it feels like I was. So do you want to go out or something tonight? I'm in the mood to get drunk."  
  
Still not looking up from his paperwork he purposely put a hint of sarcasm in his voice.  
  
"Are you sure your wife won't mind?"  
  
"I, um . . .she has some girls night out thing tonight. Won't be home for hours. So are you free?"  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
Finally sensing the aggravated tension coming from Weiss, a confused frown appears on Vaughns' face.  
  
"You don't seem very happy to see me."  
  
"Probably because I'm not."  
  
"Can I ask why not?"  
  
Weiss stopped writing for a moment and just stared at his papers, contemplating his choice of words. Eventually he looked up at his friend and spoke.  
  
"She saw her today. At the store."  
  
"What are you talking about? Who saw who?"  
  
"Who do you think saw who?"  
  
The answer dawning on him, Vaughns' eyes shifted to his feet.  
  
"Sydney met Emily."  
  
"Bingo. And I just spent my entire lunch break trying to calm her down. Do you have any idea how hard it must have been for her, to hear someone say 'Hi, I'm Emily VAUGHN.'?"  
  
"I didn't *mean * for it to happen."  
  
"Damnit Mike, I know that. But that doesn't make it any easier for her! I have never seen Sydney Bristow that unsettled, having to sit and watch her break down knowing that there is nothing you can do to help her was so . . ."  
  
"Difficult? Frustrating? Unbearable? Believe me Weiss, I KNOW that. I spent nearly two years of my life filling that role and now I can't. Not because it would get us killed, not because it's against protocol, but because I screwed up! I gave up on her and this is what I get, do you know how *ucking hard that is? DO you?"  
  
Weiss sighed and began to tap his pencil realizing the mistake he made.  
  
"Look Mike, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I . . ."  
  
"No, Eric, there is nothing to be sorry about. I just . . .knowing that the only thing keeping us apart is me, it becomes harder with each day. And I know that meeting with her so often probably isn't helping, but I can't not see her. Now that she's back, I can't stay away from her. But every time I do, I feel as if I'm cheating on my wife. And I never thought I would be that guy"  
  
"Stuck between a rock and a hard place."  
  
"You have no idea."  
  
"No, I guess not."  
  
"So how about that bar."  
  
"I'm off in about thirty minutes."  
  
After letting out another sigh, Vaughn gave him a small smile and left the office.  
  
Will the two of them ever be happy? He knew that Mike was more in love with her than anyone would ever know, he could see it in his eyes. And Sydney, well, from today's outburst there was no second-guessing on her feelings. But the problem they had gotten themselves into wasn't even something a producer would try to get out of, there was no right answer, no solution. And most certainly no happy endings.  
  
*  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"The meeting?"  
  
"It went well."  
  
"How well?"  
  
"Well enough to have her fleeing from the store without her items."  
  
"Very good."  
  
"If you don't mind me asking, what exactly was the purpose of this."  
  
"We need to gain every psychological advance possible before I make her my offer. Normally, Sydney would not agree to my terms. But if she truly believes that there is no way back, that she has been replaced and there is no longer use for her in her former life, she may take the offer into consideration."  
  
"And what if she doesn't?"  
  
"She will"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"I must go. I will contact you later this week with the next step. Goodbye."  
  
As he hung up she smiled once again. The meeting *had * gone well, she had indeed become the first person to get under the legendary Bristow's skin. And that meant she could be done with the tedious assignment, that she could leave this dull life and return to her former self. While Mr. Vaughn was a good-looking, charming man, he was far from over Sydney, and being considered second best was not something she was found of. Soon, it would be over. The irony pleased her, as soon as Michael was free to be with her, Sydney would be gone.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-I hope you are enjoying these cliffhangers as much as I am. And yes, Vaughn will be addressed with the 'you replaced her' ordeal eventually, just not yet : ) And not by Weiss, or Sydney, or evil Emily (that's almost as fun as Freplica isn't it? Hehe . . .). I will post the next chapter as soon as I can, which may not be that soon considering the massive amount of HW waiting for me. More reviews always have me updating faster though! 


	10. The Search

-First of all, once again, I want to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews! Keep them comin!  
  
-Second of all, this chapter is a load of crap. A lot of it will seem totally fictional, and that's because it is. The only research I did on this was to find the name of a county in LA, and everything else I made up completely. I know that it may be difficult, but try and ignore it for the sake of the story.  
  
-Ryanne: No, Vaughn does not know that Emily's Evil. And he may not know for a while . . .  
  
-This update would have come a lot sooner, but exam reviews are being thrown out and my free time is slowly decreasing. So, I will write more than one chapter and post them both/all at once, which should also even out the fact that this chapter is short.  
  
-What she reads of the computer is denoted with a (-) at the beginning.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
I *cannot * believe I am doing this.  
  
Sydney Bristow took a deep breath for the second time within the last minute as she began to go behind *his * back. It was something she never thought she would do but somehow she just could not stop.  
  
-Name?  
  
-Michael C. Vaughn.  
  
-Status?  
  
-Active.  
  
-Searching . . . . . .  
  
-Search Successful.  
  
- (1) File found.  
  
She takes another deep breath as she moves the mouse to click on the file labeled 'Personal.'  
  
-Father: William C. Vaughn. Former Agent. KIA.  
  
-Mother: Georgett Delorme Vaughn.  
  
-Residence: Fluery, France  
  
-Siblings: None  
  
-Other: Married to Emily S. Brown in fall of 2004  
  
She had found what she needed to know, but for some reason she didn't stop there. Scrolling through his physical stats, height, weight, eyes, hair; she finally reached something that peaked her interest.  
  
-Psychiatric history:  
  
-Met with Dr. Barnett in 2002 by request of Director Devlin to assess handler/asset relationship with Sydney A. Bristow.  
  
-Status- Cleared.  
  
-Met with Dr. Barnett 2003-2004 by personal request due to disappearance of former asset Sydney A. Bristow.  
  
-Status- Pending.  
  
And that's where she stopped. There was more, but she hated reading how impersonal it was. Of course, it had to be that way, yet still it angered her. They were so much more than asset and handler, they always had been, but to the naked eye that was it. It didn't say he was questioned for giving her a Christmas gift and taking the case too 'personally', and it didn't say he had seen Barnett because the woman he loved was gone without a trace. There was no physical evidence anywhere of how they had defied ever rule in the book, and she hated it.  
  
Taking a deep breath, once again, she typed in her next destination. But this time on her laptop without the use of government engines. There was no way she was going to let someone find out what she was up to.  
  
-Name?  
  
-Emily Brown  
  
-Your search came up with (5) results.  
  
-Emily Brown  
  
-Emily Brown-Matthews  
  
-Emily Brown Vaughn.  
  
She stared at the name for a moment and her eyes began burning holes in the screen. Sydney had never been one to get off task, but she could not let go of the last name that should have belonged to her.  
  
After finally releasing her stare at the screen she chose the right name.  
  
"Sydney?"  
  
The sound of her own name causes her to jump, and upon gaining composure she quickly minimizes the screen.  
  
"Hey, Vaughn, what's up?"  
  
He looked at her strangely, causing her to wonder if he had caught a glimpse of her screen, and worry begins to rush through her.  
  
"Did you get that memo?"  
  
Sighing in relief, she let herself turn her full attention to his question.  
  
"What memo?"  
  
He ran his fingers through hair, purposely using the ring-less hand, and his present forehead wrinkles began to increase. All of this only served to cause her to miss him more.  
  
"I guess not then . . .We are supposed to meet with Barnett today for a joint session."  
  
"Did Kendall order this?"  
  
"No, actually, it came straight from Barnett."  
  
"Oh. What time?"  
  
He looked at her for a minute, surprised. He had expected her to do anything she could to get out of this, but it was becoming painfully obvious that he did not know her as well as he thought.  
  
"One thirty, You do know that her office moved, right?"  
  
"No, where is it?"  
  
"I'll stop by your office before I go and we'll walk there. I know it all to well."  
  
The last comment was muttered under his breath as he turned towards the door.  
  
"Ok, thanks."  
  
"Sure. See you then."  
  
"Bye."  
  
He gave her one last lingering smile and closed the door.  
  
Awkward.  
  
It was the only word that came to mind. How had something that once felt so normal, so right, become so . . .not? Of course, that could have something to do with the fact that she was willingly going behind his back because of her own selfish curiosity.  
  
Remembering her previous activities she turned towards her computer and maximized the screen. After yet another deep breath, she continued where she had left off. It was twelve thirty, she only had a little under and hour.  
  
-Emily Brown Vaughn.  
  
-DOB: 5/1/70  
  
-Hair: Brown  
  
-Eyes: Hazel Brown  
  
-Height: 5'10"  
  
-Weight: 125  
  
-Occupation: none, previsouly company terminated position due to down- sizing  
  
For some reason, that made her smile.  
  
-Parents: Brandon and Linda Jones, both died in car accident in 1990  
  
-Siblings: none  
  
The fact that she had no remaining family members screamed at Sydney, everything was pointing in the direction she had expected it to. She kept trying to convince herself that it was *only * coincidence, that she shouldn't jump to any conclusions. The thing was, she already had.  
  
-College: Stanford University  
  
-High school: Westlake High  
  
Oddly enough, that name popped out at her. And then it clicked. She had lived right down the street from that high school. Her father had forced her to go to a private school and she remembered her various nannies driving her every morning and passing all the *normal * kids dressed in *normal * clothes at a *normal * school. Heated arguments had begun over the subject when she became a teenager, and eventually he had rewarded her with allowing her to go to a public college, even though more than one Ivy League school had accepted her.  
  
She took yet another deep breath and closed her laptop, slipping it back into her case.  
  
*This is so wrong. *  
  
She shook her head, once again reminding herself that this was for him, that she was protecting him.  
  
*Wouldn't he have checked on his own though? If you were a CIA agent getting married, wouldn't you do a background check? *  
  
Again, she shook her head. No, he wouldn't have. Of course, he would do the primary search, but he would have accepted her deceased parents, he wouldn't have thought twice about it. She, on the other hand, wasn't as subjective about it. And she was going to track down every lead, every trace of suspicion about this woman, until she was one hundred percent sure that she was who she says she was.  
  
"Hey, Syd?"  
  
Again, she jumped at his voice and did whatever she could to wash away the thoughts previously occupying her mind.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You ready?"  
  
Am I ready to go talk to Barnett about just how much more complicated this has become? Or am I ready to lie to the one person who has always been my only truth?  
  
"As I'll ever be."  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-See? Short and full of crap. All of that research stuff doesn't make any sense. But hey, whatever works, right? I have the strange feeling that I abandoned my original character personalities in this chapter, so I am going to need you to either tell me to re-write this the right way, or to just keep going. So be sure to review, I need your help : ) 


	11. The Yearbook

-Everyone seems to be adding a 'therapy session' into their post-finale stories so I thought I would follow suit. Of course it is unbelievable because they probably would never have a joint session, but say it with 'ignore it for the sake of the story'. You watch Alias, so you must be used to ignoring the obvious.  
  
-The reviews are absolutely wonderful, keep them coming! A big shout out to any NSA members keeping up with this : ) (haha)  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Once upon a time, they called me the bleeder  
  
Swimming up this river, its sentimental fever  
  
But this ain't my first try it ain't my last try, just got to keep moving on  
  
If they catch me ever, they'll throw me back forever  
  
-The Bleeder, The Wallflowers  
  
-  
  
"Agent Bristow, nice to see you again."  
  
Sydney did her best to offer a warm smile to Dr. Barnett as she shook her hand and took a seat on the couch.  
  
"Agent Vaughn, it's been a while."  
  
"Yes, it has."  
  
Vaughn gave her a smug nod and followed Sydney onto the couch. Dr. Barnett took note of the fact that Sydney had purposely sat so she was nearly falling off the seat, yet Vaughn ignored the gesture and sat in the middle.  
  
"I know that the two of you are probably wondering why you're here. As you know, this meeting was not ordered by Kendall, but I requested it on my own inquiry."  
  
"May I ask why?"  
  
"Agent Bristow, I know that you have refused my offer to attend sessions outside of the regression-therapy and are not fond of this practice. But the two of you have been through quite a lot during the past two months, or should I say years. Agent Vaughn was a regular in my office for a little more than a year after your . . .disappearance and I felt obligated to follow up on the situation."  
  
Sydney shot a glance at Vaughn, who held a steady gaze at the corner of Barnetts desk. She sighed aloud, finding the meeting tedious and unnecessary.  
  
"I do not intend to be rude, Dr. Barnett, but there is no need to follow up. There is nothing that needs to be said that hasn't already. Agent Vaughn and I have come to terms with the . . .situation, and this meeting will essentially end up to be pointless."  
  
Dr. Barnett smiled at Sydney and turned to Vaughn whose eyes had not removed from the corner of the desk. She began again in a tone that conveyed her knowledge that neither had 'come to terms' with the 'situation'.  
  
"With all due respect, Agent Bristow, I find that hard to believe. The two of you have been raising eyebrows at the agency because of your unprecedented relationship for quite some time.  
  
"I was made aware of Agent Vaughns emotional attachment when I met with him concerning the Christmas gift he had given you. And after you spoke so adamantly of the search efforts to find him rather than your mothers reappearance I realized that the feelings were mutual. Following the fall of the alliance, the two of you began a romantic relationship, is the correct?"  
  
Sydney looked at the ground, doing whatever she could to hide the emotions playing on her face due to the rehash of their relationship. She knew he was watching her, that he knew what she was feeling. Thankfully, he took the liberty of answering this question.  
  
"Yes. Yes we did."  
  
"And how long did this relationship last?"  
  
Again, he answered, this time with a voice that sounded recorded, as if he had memorized the answer and repeated it over and over.  
  
"Three months."  
  
"I see. Am I to assume that the two of you were . . ."  
  
"Happy? Ridiculously. But that question is redundant, we have been over this more than once, Dr. Barnett"  
  
She looked at him, shocked at his open manner. She too felt the same way about their relationship, but had not expected him to be so blatant.  
  
"Of course. You disappeared without a trace and now you're back only to find that Agent Vaughn has married."  
  
The words cut like glass, and she shook her head, silently willing herself to keep it together.  
  
"There was no breakup, no closure for you Agent Bristow. You come back and the man you . . . loved?"  
  
She knew what Barnett was asking, and had been fully prepared to answer. Quickly she replied, her voice firm and more than convincing.  
  
"Love."  
  
"The man you love had moved on. There was no closure, no . . ."  
  
Both women looked up in shock as Vaughn leapt from his seat and began to pace the room, abruptly stopping to look Barnett straight in the eye.  
  
"What is it you want me to say? I think that it is painfully obvious that I still love Sydney, that every time I look at my wife I am reminded that I did something I swore I would never do, I gave up on her. And that hurts . . .it hurts like *hell *. Would you like to rub it in some more?"  
  
Dr. Barnett stared at the young man, whom she thought she had begun to know but was apparently wrong. After gaining composure she tried to answer the accusation.  
  
"Agent Vaughn, I was merely . . ."  
  
"No . . .I don't have to be here, I don't have to listen to this. I have things to do. I'm sorry Sydney."  
  
All she could manage was a nod. He stared at Barnett for a moment longer and then briskly existed leaving Sydney on her own.  
  
"That was so . . .unlike him."  
  
"Your disappearance was a difficult time on Agent Vaughn."  
  
Stifling a laugh, she matched the stare Vaughn had given the woman. Vaughn was not the victim, she was. Her life had been turned upside down unwillingly, he on the other hand had chosen his fate. He had known that, so why wouldn't Dr. Barnett give in as well? She too was tired of listening to the woman.  
  
"Are we done?"  
  
The doctor shook her head, made a note or two before she looked back up at Sydney and nodded. Slowly she stood, walked over to the desk and ripped the paper out of the yellow pad, smiled and exited the room.  
  
*  
  
It was nine o'clock in the morning and Sydney sat on her couch staring at a slip of paper.  
  
*You have to do this, you cannot whimp out now. *  
  
Sighing, she finally ended the battle in her head as she stood up to leave. Grabbing her purse, she headed towards the door, and reached to open it only to find it opening in her face.  
  
"Weiss?"  
  
"Hey Syd. I need to borrow your laptop."  
  
Nonchalantly he walked into her home and took a seat on the barstool. Eventually he noticed she was dressed to leave.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"Out."  
  
"Fine don't tell me."  
  
"Why do you need my laptop?"  
  
"I, well, I kind of spilt sprite on it. You know, that new remix stuff. Well, it isn't really new to me, but to you, and let me tell you, it is just beyond great. So anyway the keyboards all sticky."  
  
She laughed at him and nodded towards the couch.  
  
"Go ahead. But don't even consider keeping a beverage anywhere near it."  
  
"Wouldn't think of it."  
  
"I've got to go."  
  
"Alright, see you later."  
  
*  
  
She turned off the car stereo as she began driving down familiar roads. It had been so long since she returned to where she had grown up, and once pleasant memories were now painful. That's the home where my dad taught me to be a spy when I was six. That's the ice cream shop my murdering mother took me when dad was out of town. Everything had changed, and that was something that she couldn't forgive her mother for.  
  
Finally she reached her destination and sat in her car for a moment and just watched. Teenage kids were exiting and entering the school, carrying various books and backpacks, laughing with their friends. Part of her began to wish she was one of those kids, that her worst problems were the boy who said he liked her but kissed her best friend at some party.  
  
She walked the few feet to the front of the school and swung the door open. It had obviously been renovated since she was a high schooler, the paint was fairly new and the floors were surprisingly clean tile.  
  
Approaching the desk she plastered on her best smile and greeted the young lady who looked reasonably bored clicking aimlessly on the computer in front of her.  
  
"Can I help you?"  
  
"I sure hope so. My friend is turning thirty next week and I am trying to put together a bit of a scrap book for her. She won't let me near any of her Highschool photos so I was wondering if you had a yearbook archive of some sort."  
  
"Aww, that's sweet. Let me get Matt, I'm sure he can help you."  
  
The woman got up and headed toward the back room and returned with a man about her own age with her, who proceeded to look her up and down, quite blatantly at that.  
  
"I hear you need a yearbook."  
  
"And I hear you can help me."  
  
"Right this way ma'am."  
  
He grinned at her and she followed him out of the room and down a long set of stairs. At the end of a long hallway he opened a door revealing a small room with shelves stacked with tall hardback books.  
  
"You'll find everything you need in here. I am going to have to ask you to sign this though, we keep a record of everyone who accesses the yearbooks. Not a long list."  
  
"I can see that."  
  
Sydney reached for the pen and signed the sheet, resuming a familiar alias.  
  
"Well Miss . . .Kate Jones, if you tell me what year your looking for maybe I can help you."  
  
"1988."  
  
"I know it well. I graduated from here that year."  
  
"Loved it to much to leave?"  
  
"I guess you could say that. Here it is."  
  
He handed her the book and she began to look through it. Finally she came upon the senior class and flipped to the B's. Her finger stopped and her heart sank as she found the name she was looking for. Same Brown eyes, same brown hair . . .  
  
Emily Theresa Brown.  
  
Matt notice her halt in the search and looked over her shoulder at the name.  
  
"I knew Emily. It really is a shame what happened to her."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Sydney watched as he looked at his feet and shook his head.  
  
"She and her parents were driving up to Stanford, she was supposed go there, when some drunk hit them. All three were killed on impact. It was tragic really. Nice girl."  
  
She stared in shock at the picture for a moment, if this wasn't really Emily, then . . .  
  
"Do you remember the name of the last person to access these records?"  
  
The man looked at the list and found the name.  
  
"Yeah, Sam Stevens."  
  
"Do you think you could describe him for me?"  
  
"Well, he was a little shorter than you, maybe 5'9", had dark brown hair and eyes. He spoke in some sort of a Russian accent. Terribly pale. I believe that was nearly two years ago."  
  
Sark.  
  
Looking closely, she noticed that Emily's picture was not the same as the rest, the background was solid unlike the fabric of the others.  
  
*You see, you were right. They got to him. *  
  
If anyone had been watching closely, they would have seen her jaw tighten and her eyes grow dark. He had not willingly given up on her, he had been a target from the beginning. She never thought Sloane could do anything to hurt her more than he already had, but this only served to increase her anger towards him.  
  
She slammed the book shut, set it on the desk and began to briskly walk out of the room.  
  
"Wait! Kate, did you find your friend?"  
  
She responded without turning around.  
  
"Not pictured."  
  
Finally making it back to her car she slammed her palms on the steering wheel and let out a scream. One man was responsible for all of the pain in her life. He had stolen Danny. He had stolen Francie. He had stolen two years of her life. And now he had stolen Vaughn.  
  
She was going to find him. And when she did, she would not hesitate to take back everything he had stolen.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-How's that for thickening the plot. I am really loving this story line, I have so many ideas running through my head right now it's ridiculous. I'm not a huge fan of the therapy thing, but I needed some way to stress the point further. You can never have enough angst. So let me know what you think . . .review like mad people. I will update ASAP. 


	12. The Call

-Ok, this is where it gets good. I think you will enjoy this chapter quite a bit, I know I enjoyed reading it (  
  
-Again, I have to thank everyone who has been consistently reviewing this! I would address you personally, but this particular computer lacks the Internet. I must however give a shout out to 'my most dedicated reader' Jenn! Hehe, keep reviewing, you know how I love them!  
  
-Once again without lyrics, her is chapter twelve, probably my favorite chapter since the second one. Hope you think so too!  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Eric Weiss watched Sydney as she retreated out the door and headed towards the refrigerator. Upon opening it he shook his head in disappointment.  
  
"Such a chick fridge."  
  
Grabbing a water he walked over to her couch and turned on the laptop. After a few seconds the screen popped up and he clicked on the Internet icon and typed in his destination.  
  
Espn.com  
  
"Du na na, Du na na."  
  
He hummed the familiar theme song as the page appeared and clicked on the NBA playoff link. When thirty seconds went by and the mouse still took the form of an hourglass he began to get agitated.  
  
"Stupid dial up! Come one Syd, I know they pay you more than that!"  
  
Reaching for the mouse he began to repetitively press violently on the back button. All of the sudden a few pages flew by, and he found him self a few sites further back than he had hoped to go. What he did find shocked him.  
  
"What the . . ."  
  
-Name: Emily Brown Vaughn  
  
-DOB: 5/1/70  
  
He had read enough.  
  
*What were you thinking Sydney? *  
  
Eric knew this had been hard for her, that the pain would probably never go away. But he had figured that she had finally accepted that Mike was married. Never would he have imagined that she would go as far as to check the woman's background. Didn't she know that Mike would have done that himself?  
  
Frustrated, he shut the laptop and turned on the TV, not really paying attention to the programs he was scrolling through. She would be home soon, and hour maybe two, and he had only that long to figure out how to confront her on this.  
  
*  
  
The whole ride home had been hell for her; she had never driven as badly as she had then. Missing stop signs and hitting curbs, it was obvious that her mind was elsewhere. It was all too much; this complicated everything so much more. While Sydney had secretly hoped this to be the truth she knew it wouldn't magically restore her life to what it had been before.  
  
She could not tell anyone of what she had found, and not because she didn't want to but because no one would believe her. They would all accuse her of denying the truth, of refusing to accept the marriage. As much as she hated creating more lies, this was the only way. She had to do this on her own.  
  
Turning off the engine, she opened the car door and made her way up to her apartment. Stepping inside she was slightly surprised to find Weiss sitting on the couch, forgetting his earlier request to use her computer. The funny thing was, her computer was sitting on the coffee table untouched.  
  
"Hey Weiss . . .I didn't think you'd still be here."  
  
"You weren't gone that long. An hour maybe more."  
  
He answered her without turning, no emotion in his voice and she wondered what was wrong now. True, she had been gone for shorter than she had thought. But the fact that the laptop remained unopened still bothered her.  
  
"So, where did you go?"  
  
"No where really, went to look for some furniture to warm this place up a bit. Didn't find anything though."  
  
This time he turned to her, an accusing expression on his face.  
  
"No, Syd, where did you *really * go?"  
  
How could he know? There was no way that he knew she was lying, there was no reason to suspect her of anything.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"We both know that you weren't out shopping for anything. The question is where did you go? Her old office, an old friends house, her school?"  
  
"How did you . . ."  
  
"You know Syd, I never saw you as the jealous type, so it came as a bit of a shock to find a search for Emily Brown sitting in front of me."  
  
How stupid of her! She should have deleted the serach history. She was a spy for Christ sakes; he was trained to do this stuff, yet when it came to her own life she forgot everything she knew for some reason.  
  
"This was not done out of jealously."  
  
"Like hell it wasn't! I don't get it, don't you think that Mike would have done the background check on his own?"  
  
She laughed at him and threw her coat on the counter. She replied from inside the kitchen.  
  
"Well obviously not good enough."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Your right, Weiss, I went to her high school looking for a yearbook picture. And you want to know what I found out? Emily Brown *died * seventeen years ago!"  
  
For a moment he stared at her, trying to comprehend what he was just told.  
  
"No. That's impossible. He did a check, he . . ."  
  
"Yeah, well, the background check looks real nice. No siblings, which is true, no parents, true also, they died in the wreck with her. Says she went to Stanford, which is where Emily was *going * to go. Her profile was perfect Weiss, but we both know that means absolutely nothing."  
  
"It has to be a mistake, it could be a different Emily."  
  
"The last person who requested access to those yearbooks did so nearly two years ago, a man with dark hair and dark eyes with a Russian accent slightly shorter than I am."  
  
"Sark . . ."  
  
"Her picture, it's different, the background isn't cloth."  
  
"It isn't like him to make a mistake."  
  
"Well, when your girlfriend gets killed in the body of someone else, you aren't exactly on the top of your game."  
  
He was silent for a minute, his face twisted in anger, in frustration that no one caught this obvious set up.  
  
"Don't tell me it doesn't make sense to you Weiss. Sloane knew he would look for me, that he would be a complication to his little plan. So he trains one of his *loyal * agents to become me, to distract him, to take my place. To get Vaughn out of his way. Don't you see, Weiss? It fits perfectly."  
  
He shakes his head; silently hoping it was all a dream. Looking up into her eyes, he knows she isn't doing this because she wants her life back, but because the man she loves is in danger.  
  
He leaves the couch and heads towards the door. Before he exits, he addresses her once more.  
  
"You have to tell him."  
  
"I can't."  
  
"His life is at stake, don't tell me that."  
  
"He won't believe me, we both know that. Promise me you won't say anything."  
  
Taking a deep breath, he doesn't give her an answer before opening the door and leaving her behind.  
  
She knows that if he tells Vaughn things will be that much harder. Lying to him is hard enough, but if he knows she is going behind his back, that she questioning his ability to see behind a mask . . .it would change things between them forever.  
  
Finally, she makes her way over to her laptop, and resumes her search. It would hurt for him to hate her, but it would hurt worse to have him killed.  
  
*  
  
"Hey Em."  
  
"Mike, hey. You're little late."  
  
"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. I meant to call but things just got so backed up . . ."  
  
"Don't worry about it."  
  
She gives him a small smile and returns to her previous activities. He watches her for a minute and then climbs on to the couch next to her, placing a tentative arm around her arms.  
  
"What are we watching?"  
  
"The news."  
  
"Anything interesting going on?"  
  
"Not particularly. Oh, I forgot, Eric called about ten minutes ago."  
  
"What about?"  
  
"He didn't say. Only for you to call him when you got home. He sounded kind of anxious."  
  
"Really? That's strange."  
  
"Is something going on at work?"  
  
"No, if it was work related then he would have called the office."  
  
He takes note that she looks slightly disappointed at this answer. This was normal though, she was fascinated with his occupation and at times he thinks she loves him more because of it. When he told her he was a CIA agent her face had lit up. She said that if he ever needed someone to talk about it with she was there, and when he decided to remove himself from field status she seemed to loose interest. Now that he was back on the task force, her questions seemed to have increased.  
  
"You should call him."  
  
"Yeah, I will."  
  
*  
  
Sydney had been on the computer for the last few hours, but had turned up absolutely nothing. She had expected as much, Sark would not have made more than one mistake. Sighing she leaned back on the couch. What more could she do? There were no leads, no concrete evidence. She was stuck.  
  
It was then that the door slammed open. She looked up in surprise to see Weiss pacing behind her.  
  
"Weiss?"  
  
"I tried, Syd, I really tried."  
  
"You tried what Eric."  
  
"I just got off the phone with him."  
  
Worry was apparent on her features. If he told . . .  
  
"Did you . . ."  
  
"No, I didn't. I wanted to Sydney, but I didn't. I lied to him and I have never lied to Mike. I had planned on telling him, I called the house but *she * picked up. Her voice was so sweet, she was so friendly; it made me realize that you're right. He wouldn't believe it if I did tell him."  
  
"Thank you Wiess."  
  
"If he gets hurt . . ."  
  
"You know that I won't let that happen."  
  
"Have you found anything else?"  
  
Her answer is stifled by the telephone, cutting the thin tension in the air. She walks over to the counter and picks it up, and Weiss watches as her expression changes drastically.  
  
"Hello, Sydney."  
  
Teeth clenched and fists in a ball, she eyes Weiss and he knows it could only be one person  
  
"Sloane."  
  
"You sound troubled."  
  
"What do you want from me?"  
  
"Calm down, Sydney, there is no need for you to panic."  
  
"I am not in the mood for your games."  
  
"Of course not. You never have been. But that's not why I called. I have a proposition for you Sydney.  
  
"What kind of a proposition."  
  
"I've never been one to do business over the phone."  
  
"Where."  
  
"The warehouse, I believe you know it well."  
  
"You want to meet at a CIA operated drop point?"  
  
"It's been taken care of."  
  
"When?"  
  
"Within the half hour would be nice. And Sydney, I wouldn't try anything."  
  
And the line went dead. After slamming the phone on the receiver, she reached for her keys.  
  
"Uh, Syd? Are you going to call headquarters now or from the car?"  
  
"I'm not. If he knew it was monitored he would leave."  
  
"You're honestly planning on meeting that man without back up? Need I remind you that he held you captive for two years?"  
  
"Which is why I need to do this on my own."  
  
She heads for the door only to find him following her.  
  
"Weiss . . ."  
  
"Sydney, you have two choices. You let me come or I call Kendall."  
  
She stares at him, her frustration evident. Sighing, she agrees.  
  
"You can't arrive less than a minute after me, and if he hears your tires on the gravel . . ."  
  
"Newsflash, Sydney, you aren't the only one here who works for the CIA."  
  
She doesn't respond to his apparent attempt at lightening the situation, but turns towards her car. He follows and watches as she speeds off. And for a moment, he almost feels sorry for Arvin Sloane. Then it passes, and he makes his way towards the warehouse.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-I am so loving this. That chapter was beyond fun to write. Fun to read as well, am I right? Really? Then let me know and REVIEW! 


	13. The Retrieval

-First of all, while I may not have as many reviews as certain other stories, the ones I have are just wonderful! You guys really know how to brighten someone's day : ) It's great to hear that you like my character development or my style or just the stories in general, so keep them coming!  
  
-Second, the title makes doesn't really go with the story well. But I already used the warehouse and the call so I went with a word from the last sentence. Just thought I'd let you know.  
  
-Yes, it took forever to update, and yes, this chapter is shorter than most. But I promise it will be worth it, and I will get the next chapter up soon as I can. Seriously, I will.  
  
-The Mavericks beat the Kings; the Mavericks beat the Kings . . .hehehe!  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Now I will tell you what I've done for you  
  
Fifty thousand tears I've cried  
  
Screaming deceiving and bleeding for you  
  
And you still wont hear me  
  
-Evanescence, Going Under  
  
-  
  
Sydney listens as the gravel crunches under her tires. It took her ten minutes to get here, going ninety in a seventy-five zone, but she was here. She was finally here. It had taken nearly four years out of her life, but the end was near.  
  
She parks the car and leaps out, slamming the door in the process. The sound of her heels clicking on the cold concrete reminds her of all the times she had entered the warehouse to find a heart-stopping smile waiting for her. She couldn't decide which was a better motivation to arrive in the back of the musty building, a conversation with the man of her dreams or the end of the man who haunted them.  
  
She stopped short when she arrived at the gate, which had been left open for her. Plastering on a plastic smile, the one he had trained her so well to use, she was within feet of him in two long strides.  
  
"Hello Sydney."  
  
"Sloane."  
  
"I'm glad you could join me. Is it safe to suspect that you're here alone?"  
  
"I know the rules of the game, Sloane. You told me you had a proposal to make."  
  
He grins at her, the grin of a man who thinks he has it all. Who thinks that the ball is in his court. Who thinks the pieces of the puzzle are falling together perfectly. Who has no idea he is more wrong than he has ever been.  
  
"Sydney, since your return, things have been . . .different, have they not?"  
  
"That's what happens when two years are stolen from your life."  
  
Her voice is cold, calm, collected. The corners of his lips turn further upwards and he shakes his head in amused recognition. This only proves to spur on her hate, her anger, her taste for his demise.  
  
"People have betrayed you, people you thought loved you have changed. Left you behind."  
  
"Everyone had to move on eventually."  
  
"Hypothetically, yes. But it still hurts."  
  
"Like hell."  
  
"Your friends, Francie and Mr. Tippen, they are no longer by your side . . ."  
  
Her cheeks turn red and her rage increases at his audacity to bring them into this argument.  
  
"Thanks to your . . ."  
  
Waving his hand, he dismisses her accusation, continuing his righteous speech.  
  
"Your mother betrayed you once again, and Jack was never the father figure you imagined. And then there's Agent Vaughn, the man you loved, the man you gave your life for more than once. He is married Sydney. You have no one. We both know that."  
  
She wants to smile, to point and laugh out loud at his ignorance. But instead, she plays the part. She puts on her best performance as the poor double agent. Brown eyes bridge with tears and a stiff smile turns to a frown. He is buying it, and she can tell. His pompous demeanor only grows.  
  
"But Sydney, I am still here for you, I always have been. I once said I felt as if you were my own, and I intend to treat you as so. You want something more, you need something to use your great talent on, now that the CIA has ignored everything you gave up for them. Something to get your mind of the betrayal, to keep you busy. If you accept my offer, you can have more than you have ever imagined. It is you in the prophecy Sydney, it is you Rambaldi chose to bring forth his works. Only you wield the greatest power this world has to offer. The time has come, the opportunity is here, all you have to do is reach out and take it."  
  
Lies. So many lies. How can a man give his life up for an ancient prophecy? She asks herself this question one last time, and once again she comes up empty. There is no answer. There is no reason. She knows this, she always has, yet somehow he has failed to recognize that.  
  
"Come with me, Sydney. I need your help, and you need mine. Without you, they are nothing, but you are special. I am offering you something no one else can. It is now or never. Say yes, and we can start tonight. All I need is an answer."  
  
Finally, she allows herself to smile. A real, true, vibrant smile. Her eyes take in his reaction as she steps forward, he honestly thinks she believes.  
  
She reaches him and stands close, so close that she can see the emptiness in his eyes, the emptiness he thinks she can fill. The first time she attempted his murder, it had been to save someone else's life. This time it was to save hers. Leaning in, she whispers words she has waited for to long to say.  
  
"You know, Arvin, it isn't a very bright idea to name an agent after your dead wife."  
  
Her smile widens as his expression turns from triumphant to udder disbelief. Once again, she has betrayed him.  
  
"I'm good at what I do. *Nothing * gets past me. Of all people, you should know this. After all, you trained me to be the best. And I am. There is a list of men and women who I have full permission to kill. And lucky for me, you're name is on that list. Rot in Hell, Sloane."  
  
She steps back, and watches.  
  
Watches as his face goes pale.  
  
Watches as his eyes turn dark.  
  
Watches as his fingers find the blood now dripping from his chest.  
  
Watches as he stumbles, and then falls.  
  
And then she walks away.  
  
-  
  
From the outside, he can hear nothing. Their words a whispered and never reach his waiting ears. But he will not risk getting closer; it would cost his life as well as hers. That is something he could never forgive himself for.  
  
Suddenly, he hears a loud thud. A thud all to similar to the sound a body makes when it hits the ground. This scares the hell out of him, but still he sits. After a momentary silence, his ears perk up once again. This time to the sound of heels clicking on the gray floor. *Lady's heels. His entire body seems to relax at the knowledge that she is ok. But once again he grows tense when his eyes find her, walking briskly towards her car with no emotion whatsoever.  
  
"Syd! Sydney!"  
  
He calls her name, needing her to stop, needing to know what happened. But she does not react to his voice, but enters her car and turns on the engine,  
  
"Sydney! Where the hell are you going? What . . ."  
  
His questions are silenced by the screech of her tires as she pulls away from the building. Cursing, he jogs back towards where stood before, slowing as he enters. Cautiously, he creeps towards the back of the warehouse, unaware of what he might find. Soon enough, his suspicions are confirmed. Reaching into his back pocket, he grabs his phone and dials a familiar number.  
  
"Vaughn."  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
"At the office, why?"  
  
"You need to get your ass home, now."  
  
"Why? Weiss, what's wrong?"  
  
"Mike, I do NOT have time for you to question me! Get in your car and drive home, now damnit. And fast."  
  
He hits end before giving him a chance to ask more questions. There is a more important call to make.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"I need to talk with Agent Bristow."  
  
"Your name, please."  
  
"Agent Weiss, this is urgent."  
  
"I'm sorry, but he is un . . ."  
  
"I SAID it was URGENT!"  
  
"Yes, sir, one moment."  
  
"This is Bristow."  
  
"Jack, I need a team at the warehouse immediately. You may want to consider tagging along."  
  
"Agent Weiss, would you mind telling me just what for?"  
  
"The retrieval of Arvin Sloane."  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-Don't you just love it? And yes, I know that it was a bit morbid and un- Sydney-ish, but again, it's the truth. The man needed to die. And now he's dead. Hurrah! So what's next, you ask? The more you review the sooner you find out! So take a few seconds and drop me a line! 


	14. The Box

-I know, it took me forever to update again . . .but I think that you will like this chapter. It is relatively short however and I apologize, but again I believe you will like it : )  
  
-Big shout outs to Jen, Crystal-Rose, Twin-Muse, and whomever else is reading this (not looking at the right comp right now . . .) The reviews are great, keep them coming!  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Spies came out of the water  
  
And your feeling so bad cause you know  
  
That spies hide out in every corner  
  
You can't touch them, no  
  
Cause there all spies  
  
-Coldplay, Spies  
  
-  
  
Michael Vaughn exited the elevator and began quickly walking towards his car, though he had no idea why. Weiss had sounded desperate on the phone, so he knew something must be wrong, but what could have happened that needed him to get home so quickly? His voice wouldn't have sounded so frantic if it was Emily, so it had to be . . .  
  
No. He shook his head in response to the thought he almost had and unlocked the car door. Just as he pulled out of the parking garage his cell began ringing. Picking it up, the I.D. read 'unknown'.  
  
"Vaughn."  
  
"Hello Michael."  
  
He froze as he heard the voice at the other end. The voice was unmistakable, a voice that try as he might he would never forget.  
  
"Irina. I heard you were in town."  
  
"Don't try and trace this because you can't."  
  
"What do you want."  
  
"I know that I am the last person you want to talk to right now, but I am not exactly pleased with you either. You have caused my daughter great pain in the past few months."  
  
"Well maybe if you had TOLD somebody what you knew then . . ."  
  
"Excuse me, Mr. Vaughn, but I don't believe you know what it's like to be caged up in that prison block like a rat. It's most certainly not how I wish to spend the rest of my life."  
  
"You could have found a way to contact me, you could have done *something *!"  
  
"What's done is done, Michael, and I did not call in hopes of dwelling on the past."  
  
"I'm not in the mood for your cryptic bullshit Irina."  
  
"Your wife, Emily I think it is, she looks a lot like Sydney, no?"  
  
"I've never really thought about it."  
  
"Like hell you haven't. Same long brown hair, deep chocolate eyes, face structure, height . . ."  
  
"What are you getting at?"  
  
He can hear her laugh on the other end, although he does not find anything about the conversation funny."  
  
"I don't know who you remind me more of, William or Jack. Never willing to look at what is right in front of you. Keep in mind, Michael, that there is no such thing as coincidences."  
  
And then the line went dead.  
  
"Damnit!"  
  
Throwing the phone into the seat next to him, he pushed the push the speed limit. He had no idea what was waiting for him at home, but he wasn't taking any chances.  
  
**  
  
"Vaughn?"  
  
Sydney stood in front of his door and knocked again, praying to anyone listening that a brunette would not greet her at the door.  
  
"Vaughn?"  
  
Hearing no movement inside the house, she gave the hallway one last glance and began to pick the lock. She had to laugh when she realized that if she weren't so stubborn this wouldn't be necessary, she would have had a key.  
  
Finally she heard a click and turned the knob, taking one last breath before she stepped in side. They had been together for almost three months, yet she had never made it inside his apartment. Shutting the door as quietly as she could, her eyes scanned the room in front of her. What she found surprised her.  
  
The walls were starch white and the furniture was black leather. The oversized TV was set on a tasteful black metal stand, which was stuffed with CD's and old tapes. There wasn't a plant in the room, or picture frames for that matter. It wasn't that the room didn't remind her of Vaughn, it did. What surprised her was that there was no evidence that this man had a wife. Everything was dark, there was no color aside from his blue and red hockey stick sitting in the corner.  
  
Then she reminded her self that a wife didn't live here, an agent did. She had no idea how she was going to tell this to Vaughn if she found no evidence; she just had to hope he would believe her.  
  
Taking another deep breath, she took a determined step forward and headed towards the bedroom. If entering his apartment had been hard, entering his room had been near impossible. Correction, *their * room. Doing what she could to shake the thoughts running through her mind, she walked towards the open closet door.  
  
Immediately she was greeted with his smell, and things became that much harder. Standing on her toes, she reached to the top shelf and moved her hands around until she found a file folder. Opening it, she shifted through finding nothing but old receipts. Placing back on the shelf among the sweaters, she retreated from the closet.  
  
Next she went to the nightstand. Nothing. And then the trunk by the window. Again, nothing. Frustrated she eyed the bed and kneeled down next to it. After letting her hands roam blindly underneath mattress, she finally hit something. She pulled out the object and found herself looking at an old shoebox, one that had obviously seen its share of use. Taking another deep breath she grabbed the lid, and what she found inside broke her heart.  
  
Lying on top was a picture frame that she recognized all to well, with a photo of her and Vaughn inside. She had never noticed the frame had gone missing, and the fact he had kept it nearly brought tears to her eyes. The picture was one they had taken after playing hockey for the first time, and she had never seen a bigger smile on either of their faces.  
  
Lifting the picture frame, she came upon more reminders of their relationship. A stub from a movie they had seen, the tickets from their first Kings game, a receipt from their first real dinner date. Underneath all that she found items from before the fall of the alliance. His flight ticket from their trip to the Vatican, the map she had given him from the SD-6 break-in, a screwdriver. Wiping viscously at the tears that had begun to fall, she picked up the watch, his fathers watch. After looking at it a moment, she set it down and picked up a sheet of paper lying next to it. A choked sob escaped her mouth when she realized it was the confirmation for their trip to Santa Barbara. But it was what she found next that made her want to scream.  
  
Beneath where the confirmation had been, was a small square velvet box.  
  
Before she had the chance to open, she heard the all too familiar click of a gun no more than two feet from behind her.  
  
"Well if it isn't the legendary Sydney Bristow. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."  
  
Whipping her head around, she found Emily, or whoever the woman was, standing before her with a gun aimed directly at her.  
  
"I believe we've met before."  
  
"No, you met Emily, the perfect little house wife I have had to be for the past two years."  
  
"You didn't have to take this assignment."  
  
"That's where your wrong, Miss Bristow. When Arvin Sloane offers you a job you don't refuse. He trained you, and you turned out to be quite the spy."  
  
"He ruined my life."  
  
"No, you ruined your own life. You were to soft, fell into all of this patriotic crap. It's always been a mystery as to why someone with your potential would give it all up for their country."  
  
"Its called loyalty, something I'm sure you don't know anything about."  
  
"So they were right, you are a quick one. You know, everyone here adores you. Sydney this, Sydney that. I've heard more about you in the past few years than I bargained for. It really is quite a shame, they all see you as a saint when all you ever did was ruin their lives. I'm right, aren't I? I mean first Danny, then Will, and poor innocent Francie. And we mustn't forget Michael."  
  
"Don't."  
  
"Don't what, Syd? It must kill knowing the man you love left you behind. He says your name in his sleep, do you know that? I haven't told him, of course, Emily would never be the one to start something."  
  
"You disgust me."  
  
"Likewise."  
  
Emily nods towards the box and lets out a small laugh.  
  
"I find it funny that he was probably going to pop the question in Santa Barbara, don't you? How about that irony. Gets you every time doesn't it. Too bad he'll never get the chance to give it to you."  
  
"Sloane wouldn't want me dead."  
  
"Well, it's to bad that you stabbed him then isn't it? I'm good at what I do, too. Your not the only one who knows how to double cross Sloane. I witnessed the whole thing, I was sitting behind a sniper just in case anything went wrong, but I wanted the man dead as much as you did."  
  
"Why not kill me then?"  
  
"Your pal Weiss was too close, I had to wait until he wasn't looking to leave. It's just an added plus that you got the see the ring. And as much as I would love to sit around and chat, I really have to do this before my husband gets home. Goodbye, Sydney."  
  
Sydney watches as a smile appears on Emily's face and her finger begins to tug on the trigger.  
  
And then she hears the shot.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-Cliffhangers are great, don't you think? For those of you who just cannot wait for the next chapter, which may be a while due to exams, go and read the first chapter of my fic Sorry for a hint. Frankly, I think what happens is a bit predictable, but then again I did write it. Review like crazy people, and I might get this done tonight. 


	15. The Realization

-So, umm, yeah . . .more of you figured out the cliffhanger than expected, which was made painfully aware to me by a few of you : ( Oh well, I guess you can make it up to me with incredible reviews *wink*wink*  
  
-OK, I have a confession to make. This chapter could have been up a day or to sooner. *Ducks flying object * I tried, really I did, but when you officially become a junior and can drive around town due to your newly acquired license with your two best friends not having to worry about what homework may be due the next day . . .updating a fanfic isn't exactly your top priority. So I did my best to make this a good one, and the next chapter is nearly done, so I promise to update soon. Enjoy : )  
  
-Alright, I finally took the time to jot down a few reviewers I need to thank: Jade, Lara, Maea (hope you feel better!), ValleyGirl, Jasmine, SydVaughn1001, Plummy03, MegVaughn2003, TwinMuse, Zrodezina, Jaryn, Skylark, Aliasgurl, Crystal-Rose (whom I adore at the moment) and of course Jenn. You guys are great, you always know how to keep me smiling! And to anyone else who has been reading that I may have forgotten, let me know and I'll add you next time : )  
  
-OK, the lyrics don't fit so well, and they were already used on the show. But hey, it's U2, so I'm sure you can look past that, right?  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
And Love  
  
Is not the easy thing  
  
The only package you can bring  
  
Is all that you can't leave behind.  
  
-U2, Walk On  
  
-  
  
Sydney Bristow watches in complete disbelief as the body of the woman known to the public as Emily Vaughn crashes down in front of her. For a moment she just stares at the women, still trying to comprehend how it was not she in the position. After taking a few seconds to catch her breath, she allows her eyes to leave the body in search of just who had saved her life.  
  
What she finds is a site that she will never forget.  
  
Michael Vaughn stands in front of her with a look of devotion in his eyes that is so strong it startles her.  
  
She watches with interest as he returns her gaze, and then proceeds to toss the gun in the general direction of the body lying before them. Without thinking, she bounces off the ground and throws herself into his arms. They both stand there for a moment reveling in the feeling of finally being back where they belong.  
  
Together.  
  
He was the first to speak, and she recognizes the pain through his muffled words spoken into her hair.  
  
"Oh, God, Syd . . .I heard everything. If she had . . ."  
  
Trailing off, she feels him shake his head in astonishment. Reluctantly, she pulls back and smiles in an attempt to remove the worry from his eyes. Wiping the silent tears from his cheeks, she does what she can to reassure him.  
  
"Hey, Vaughn, it's ok. I'm OK, you saved my life this time."  
  
She added the last sentence with a laugh but her attempts at lightening his mood were futile. Her eyes search his in a vain attempt to figure out what exactly is going through his mind right now.  
  
"No, Sydney, it's not OK. If I had come in here a second later it would have been you lying there! And it could have been MY fault!"  
  
The worry lines immediately make their presence known on his forehead, and she looks at him with concern. She knew he would do this, that he would blame himself, and she has no idea what to say to reassure him.  
  
"Michael, listen to me. This was not your fault. You are just going to have to accept the fact that there is nothing you could have done to prevent this."  
  
After looking at her for a moment, he sighs and retreats to the bed. She watches him intently, waiting patiently for a response.  
  
"I just . . .I can't believe I let her fool me like that. I'm a Goddamn CIA agent; I am trained to see this kind of stuff. Yet somehow I let her slip right into my life."  
  
"You're in good company."  
  
For the first time that night, he laughs, remembering something Irina has said to him earlier.  
  
--"I don't know who you remind me more of, William or Jack."-  
  
"Yeah, I guess I am."  
  
She sits next to him on the bed and he turns his head and just looks at her, memorizing her features and allowing himself to look at her guilt free for the first time since she had returned.  
  
"Sydney, how can you sit here and smile at me like that as if everything is OK? I *gave up on you*, I don't deserve for you to even speak to me."  
  
"That's not your fault, Vaughn, you were set up."  
  
"That doesn't matter, I still gave up on you. I am such an ass, I can't believe that I . . .How can you even look at me?"  
  
Sighing, she looks down at her feet not knowing what to say.  
  
"I can't lie to you, it still hurts. It hurts like hell. But then I have to stop and remind myself that I had feelings for you in nearly half that time after Danny."  
  
"That was different, Syd, you had a body, you had closure. What you said to me was right, I all of people should know that 'missing' and 'dead' are far from the same. I just . . .I don't know how you can forgive me for that."  
  
Still staring at her shoes, she tries to conjure up a reply that would fit the situation. Right now, she just wants to tell him that she loves him, that it may have only been a few months but she missed him like hell and doesn't give a damn about the past. But the fact that she is caught up in the moment does not go unnoticed, and she realizes that a few days from now she may not feel the same way.  
  
Suddenly, her gaze is finally torn away from her shoes as they both tense at the sound of the door slamming open. Leaping off the bed, they both begin to creep towards the intruder, only to find a very rattled Weiss staring incredulously at them.  
  
"Holy shit guys! Did either of you stop and think for a moment that, oh, I dunno, I may want to know that you're both ALIVE! For Christ's sakes!"  
  
Failing miserably in an attempt to stifle a laugh, they watch as Weiss throws himself exhaustedly onto the couch.  
  
"Sorry, Weiss, but we were just . . ."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you were 'talking'. I don't want to hear it. Kendall has requested that the two of you make yourself present 'immediately', while I on the other hand get to figure out what the hell I'm going to do with Mrs. Vaughn."  
  
An uncomfortable silence falls over the three and wary glances are exchanged between Sydney and Vaughn. Yes, everything she had been to him was a lie, but the truth still remained that they had been *married *.  
  
After shuffling his feet from a moment, Vaughn throws an unsure glance towards his friend.  
  
"Weiss . . ."  
  
"I said I'd take care of it. Now hurry up before your champagne gets warm, Syd. I have a feeling this is going to be the most pleasant debrief either of you have ever attended."  
  
In all that had happened since she had left the warehouse, Sydney had somehow forgotten the events that occurred earlier that day.  
  
Sloane is *dead *.  
  
Immediately a smile appears on her face and she shakes her head in disbelief.  
  
"Yeah, you're right. Let me know when you're done Weiss. We need to celebrate."  
  
"I'm holding you up to that Bristow."  
  
Sydney begins walking towards the door and Vaughn follows, though the look on his face is obviously troubled. The last scene had made it painfully clear to him how close Sydney and Weiss had become.  
  
And for some reason, it bothered him.  
  
They were just good friends, he knew that, and he had thanked his friend more than once for picking up the pieces when he couldn't. Yet in the midst of it all Weiss had taken his place as her source of comfort. It should be *him * she celebrates with for the end of the evil that had surrounded her for so long, he had been the one that was there for her since the beginning. It was selfish, he knew that, but he could not shake the jealous feeling that had come over him.  
  
They arrived at the parking lot and he noticed that she was looking strangely at him.  
  
"You ok?"  
  
"Yeah, perfect."  
  
"See you there then?"  
  
He nods in response and watches her back as she retreats towards her car. Out of nowhere, he is reminded of words she spoke to him forever ago.  
  
--"I was thinking, I can actually go to the CIA through the front door."-  
  
--"And I can actually drive you there."  
  
She knew very well that he could have given her a ride, yet she decided not to bring it up. Before, if an opportunity to spend time with him were presented she would jump at it, even prior to the fall of the alliance. That was no longer the case and it was completely his fault. The reality of their current situation suddenly hit him with a bang.  
  
Things would never be the same between them again.  
  
The thought sent a shiver through him, even in the scorching LA sun, causing him to drop his keys. Once he finally made it into the car, he beat his fist on the steering wheel and sat there for a moment and allowed the pain surge through him. He had always been the one with a solution, the one who could fix her problems.  
  
This, however, he could not fix.  
  
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-So, whatcha think? The angst is back, and I'm enjoying it. Hope you are too. You know how it goes, the more reviews, the sooner the update. 


	16. The Dinner

-You guys crack me up. No really, you do. So many of you made me aware of your worries about who certain people were going to end up with in your reviews, and I must say I was proud of myself. Now, I could sit here and tell you who's going to be with who and when, but that would take all of the fun out of it, now wouldn't it?  
  
-I would like to give a warm welcome to Lainie, Erin, Charisma, Jodi, and Stephanie. It makes me smile to know knew people are taking the time to read through this whole darn thing to get to the new stuff : ) Side note: Sandra, I noticed that your email is xendra, are you xendra from the ABC message boards? Just curious . . . And Twin*Muse, yes, I will get to the fluff eventually. It may take a few chapters but I promise I will : )  
  
-I haven't updated in a while, so this chapter is a bit longer than most. Enjoy! -  
  
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Upon arriving at the Joint Task Force, Sydney just sits there in her car and stares at it. For the first time in nearly three months (in her scope of time, of course) she was actually looking forward to entering the building. Walking through the front door, she would be greeted with words of congratulations and praise instead of plans of her next field assignment. It was a feeling she was unfamiliar with, and she enjoyed it.  
  
"Syd?"  
  
The fact that her door had been opened had gone completely unnoticed to her, and when she heard Vaughn's voice she nearly jumped out of her skin.  
  
"I . . .Vaughn, you surprised me, I had no idea you were standing there."  
  
In apology he flashes her that smile, the one she knows is only for her, and moves so she can exit the car.  
  
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."  
  
"No, that's ok. I was just thinking."  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"Better than I have ever been."  
  
Again, he flashes her a smile, but this one not quite as vibrant as the one before. Something has been bothering him, and she knows that. But she doesn't want to deal with it just yet, especially if it's a certain conversation she will do what she can to avoid.  
  
Vaughn can feel her gaze on his back as she follows him towards the door. Try as he might, he just can not seem to rid his mind of his earlier thoughts.  
  
This is not how it should be between them right now. His arm should be around her waist, she should be looking into his eyes and infecting him with the laugh he has missed so much. They should be discussing plans for the future, for their future, now that 'he' is finally gone.  
  
But they're not.  
  
Reaching forward, he pulls open the door and watches as she passes in front of him. The smile on her face reaches her eyes, which are bright with excitement and a trace of relief, and he has to suppress the sudden urge to reach out and hold her, spin her in circles and tell her how happy he is for her.  
  
They walk in silence down the long hallway, and various people give them appreciative smiles to Sydney. Vaughn, on the other hand, receives looks of sorrow; by now the entire task force must know of the betrayal he has been living for the past year.  
  
Finally, they reach the debrief room, and Jack Bristow does not hesitate to pull his daughter into a hug. Those attending the debriefing have never seen the cold man perform such a personal act, yet they are not surprised.  
  
"I am so proud of you, Sydney."  
  
He whispers the words and then releases her, allowing her to take in the site of the smiles apparent on the faces of everyone else in the room. Everyone who has ever meant anything to her at the agency is present with the exception of Weiss, but before she has a chance to speak to anyone Kendall reminds everyone that they are still at a government sanctioned meeting.  
  
"Agents Bristow, Agent Vaughn, will you please have a seat."  
  
Reluctantly Sydney pulls out the chair in front of her and sits, followed by Vaughn and her father on either side.  
  
"As I am sure all of you are aware by now, Arvin Sloane, who had been MIA for the past two years, was eliminated by Agent Bristow."  
  
Kendall offers her the closest to a smile she has ever seen, but it doesn't last long. As soon as Marshall, who is grinning like a fool, begins to clap, Kendall shoots him an agitated glare.  
  
"While this is a great achievement, it by no means grants us room to relax. Sark and Derevko are still at large, and until they have been dealt with we still have work to do."  
  
Rolling her eyes, Sydney lets out a loud sigh. She should have expected Kendall to be the one to shoot down the most important act of her life. Looking around, she finds that everyone else is having the same response. Amusement fills her eyes as she watches a timid Marshall raise his hand.  
  
"Yes, Marshall."  
  
"Well, I, first off, congratulations Sydney. Once again, you have proved to be the best of the best, and well, good job."  
  
"Marshall . . ."  
  
"Right, sorry. It's not important really; I was just wondering where Er, I, umm, Agent Weiss is. I mean, he was a part of the search and all and I thought that he might . . ."  
  
Marshall trails off his last sentence when he catches the uncomfortable shift of everyone in the room. Apparently, Marshall has been left out of the loop on this one, and no one really knows what to say. After a long period of silence, Sydney breaks the ice.  
  
"Weiss is dealing with another . . .contingency. He will be here as soon as he can."  
  
Sydney cringes at her words, immediately regretting her choice to answer Marshall. Referring to his wife as a contingency would only further and feelings of betrayal she knew he was feeling, and again a silence washes over the room. This time, Jack is the one to speak up.  
  
"Director Kendall, I think we would be doing everyone, including the agency, a favor if we were to postpone this meeting until a later date."  
  
Per usual, Jack and Kendall exchange heated stares. Sydney finds it amusing that after two years, her father still has the ability to get under Kendall's skin on the issue of authority.  
  
A few seconds later the director relents.  
  
"Very well. I expect everyone to be completely focused the next time we meet."  
  
Everyone in the room exchanges relieved smiles and slowly gets up to leave. Marshall is the first to go, Carrie is due any day now and she had to force him out of the house to begin with.  
  
Dixon steps towards Sydney and embraces her, knowing better than most the finality she must feel. He would have liked to be the one to take his life after the pain he had caused his family, but he knew that Sydney had gone through the same, if not worse.  
  
"Sydney, I would love to stick around, but I'm still uncomfortable leaving the kids home and . . ."  
  
"No, Dixon, don't worry about it. I'll see you soon."  
  
"Alright, Syd. If you need anything . . ."  
  
"I know. Thank you."  
  
They smile and Sydney turns to look for her father and Vaughn, both of which seem to be missing. Her face contorts in confusion, and she leaves the debriefing room. Turning the corner, she spots her father speaking with Kendall, but before she has the time to figure out where Vaughn disappeared to, she finds her self swept up into a huge hug.  
  
"Weiss! What the hell are you doing!"  
  
"Can't a guy say congratulations?"  
  
She can't help but to laugh at his words, and thanks whoever's listening for providing her with comic relief. Suddenly she is broken from her thoughts when she finds their arms linked and that she is somehow walking towards the door.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"I do believe you promised me dinner Miss Bristow."  
  
"That's right, I did. Meet me at Macaroni Grille?"  
  
"Sounds good, see you there in a few. And don't even think about standing me up."  
  
"I wouldn't dare."  
  
Sydney smiles and makes her way towards her car. Once inside, she lets out a small laugh. Why? She isn't exactly sure. It could be because she was about to go eat at her favorite restaurant with a good friend. It could be because the man who ruined her life was finally dead. It could be because the love of her life was finally available for her to love again. In all honesty it doesn't really matter. All that matters at the moment is that tonight is the end of that part of her life. The smile does not leave her face as she turns the key and exits the parking lot.  
  
As she pulls past the front doors, Sydney somehow misses the young man watching her leave. She also misses the forlorn look on his face.  
  
Vaughn mentally slaps himself for the pangs of jealousy he is feeling, but once again, he cannot help it. *He * wants to be the one eating dinner with her. But he's not.  
  
Shaking his head, he slowly walks towards his car, scuffing his feet on the concrete as he walks.  
  
Should he stop by the restaurant, claiming it to be pure coincidence? Should he call her, tell her that he wants to talk?  
  
Should he simply show up at her new apartment and tell her everything he has been meaning to tell her for the past two years?  
  
He wants to do the latter, but knows that he wont. Instead, he will go home, pop a bag of popcorn, grab a beer, and watch Sports Center all night. Baseball seasons in full swing now, and he enjoys to torture himself with the thought that maybe his Mets will be up to par with the Yankees for once.  
  
Once the car starts, he immediately turns off the Coldplay CD that he had blaring on the way here. For some odd reason, he feels the need to think in silence. As he turns the corner, he lets out a small cough, which is followed by a laugh.  
  
He had never known that heartbreak could actually cause you to become ill in the physical sense.  
  
-  
  
"So, Syd, what'll it be? It's on me, of course, so keep in mind that your budget is limited."  
  
"I'm going to get the make your own pasta with . . ."  
  
"Sliced tomatoes, olives, artichokes, asagio sauce, fettuccini noodles, and bacon."  
  
She laughs at her predictability and feens innocence.  
  
"How ever did you guess?"  
  
"Syd, you get the same thing ever single time. How about a little variety?"  
  
"Hey, last time I got bow tie noodles."  
  
"Oh, gee, I forgot."  
  
"Weiss, I believe I deserve whatever I want tonight, and I want something that is going to taste amazingly delicious, and in my former experience I have never gone wrong with this. So give me a break, will you?"  
  
"By all means, Syd. You're right, you deserve whatever you damn well please."  
  
They exchange smiles and the waiter comes by and takes their menus.  
  
The rest of the night is filled with meaningless conversation, which is one of the reasons she is glad she is with Weiss. Anyone else would have wanted to talk about work, which she most certainly did not. The only downside was that she knew Eric well enough to know that he would bring *him * up eventually. Not that she didn't want to talk about him, she did. Just not tonight.  
  
Too bad that wasn't a choice.  
  
"Syd?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"We should have invited Mike."  
  
"I know."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And . . .I know that he is going through guilt right now, and to tell you the truth I hate seeing him like that. I never know what to do, or what to say when he does the whole 'I don't deserve you' act."  
  
"He has a right to feel that way."  
  
"I know that. It doesn't make it easier to talk to him about I though."  
  
"You will eventually though, right?"  
  
The concern in his voice makes her laugh, and she twirls the straw in her coke around a bit.  
  
"What's so funny?"  
  
"I just love how protective you are of him. Weiss, I love the guy, of course I am going to talk to him about it. Just not right now. That's pretty selfish of me, isn't it?"  
  
"Yep. But it doesn't make a difference really. You two are going to be together whether you like it or not."  
  
"Is that so?"  
  
"Sure is. Everyone can see it. I never really believed in fate before, but I don't know anymore."  
  
The waiter returns Weiss's credit card and they move to exit the booth. Once they finally make it outside, a rush of cold air hits them both.  
  
"When did it get so cold?"  
  
Shaking her head, Sydney searches her brain trying to remember where she left her jacket. Finally, it dawns on her where she left it last.  
  
"Damnit!"  
  
Weiss looks at her with amusement, and then figures out the reason behind her swearing from the site of her vigorously rubbing her arms.  
  
"See! What did I say, Bristow, what did I say? Looks like you're going to have that conversation after all."  
  
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-I know, not the best way to end it, but oh well. So, have all of your fears been put to rest? If not, don't worry, there's a heck of a lot of S/V coming up in the next few chapters. So go review, and I mean now. The more reviews, the quicker the updates! 


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